Lance swung open the back door and effortlessly lifted Bettie into his arms.

Moments later, Bettie found herself settled on their bed at home, the sound of Lance's footsteps fading into the distance.

Bettie was baffled. Did he leave? Could he really be such a gentleman?

Bettie cracked open one eye, scanning the room. Was he really gone?

A sigh escaped her lips, mingling happiness with a twinge of disappointment.

Suddenly, a faint rustling emanated from the cloakroom.

Bettie strained her ears, recognizing the sound. Was it Lance rummaging for clothes? Was he seriously thinking about changing her clothes?

While she mulled over this revelation, his footsteps drew nearer.

Quickly, Bettie shut her eyes tight.

Mid-October brought a chill to the air. Bettie had donned a long dress, topped with an overcoat, paired with black silk stockings and high-heeled shoes.

With gentle precision, Lance set aside her nightgown and perched at the edge of the bed, carefully removing her shoes.

Then, with practiced ease, he knelt beside her, unfastening her coat and unbuttoning her dress.

At that moment, Bettie dared not stir, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion. Perhaps her curiosity had been misplaced... It appeared that all Lance wanted was to change her clothes. Hurry up, Lance.

Just put her pajamas on.

Feeling an overwhelming sense of unease, Bettie couldn't shake the feeling that his gaze lingered on her, as if he had seen her naked.

No! She had been stripped bare!

Bettie deliberately feigned sleep, avoiding the awkwardness that awaited her upon awakening. She could only hope that Lance would maintain his composure and not give into his desires.

Suddenly, his lips brushed against her collarbone, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring a delectable treat, inch by inch.

It tickled. An involuntary shiver coursed through Bettie as she lay there, eyes shut tightly. Her throat felt parched and scratchy.

"Um..." she managed to utter, her attempt to suppress a moan resulting in a faint murmur.