His Plump Mate (Book 1: The 'His' Series) novel Chapter 228

<Chapter 228 Intoxicating Troubles

Chapter 228 Intoxicating Troubles

Sebastian’s pov

+25 Points

I tilted my head slightly as Cecilia’s fingers pressed insistently against my mouth, as if trying to feed me something invisible-but clearly important.

“Could you be a bit gentler with the offering?” I murmured through her fingers, my voice low and wry, carried off by the breeze with just enough gravel to make it sound like a private joke.

Cecilia blinked at me, wide-eyed and utterly sincere, then pressed her palm back over my mouth with renewed determination.

“Mr. Wolf,” she said solemnly, “you need to eat properly. If you get too skinny, you won’t be handsome anymore.”

I

barely managed to contain my amusement.

She sounded like a kindergarten teacher scolding a particularly vain husky.

Drunk Cecilia followed a logic all her own-equal parts fairy tale, fever dream, and wilderness survival guide authored after two glasses of champagne.

I played along, letting my lips move obligingly beneath her hand. “There. I’ve eaten it all.”

That seemed to satisfy her. She removed her hand and let it drift to my shoulder. Her fingers

trailed along the side of my neck, then tangled lazily in the hair at my nape.

“Good wolf… such a good wolf…”

I didn’t ask. I’d long since learned the futility of trying to decipher Cecilia ‘s inebriated worldview.

After “feeding” me her imaginary snack, she gave a contented sigh and went boneless in my arms, nestling against me like I was a personal space heater with a heartbeat.

She smelled like expensive wine and trouble I couldn’t bring myself to avoid.

I adjusted my grip and carried her back inside, one arm under her knees, the other supporting her

back.

The moment we stepped through the doors, it was like someone hit pause on the entire room.

Of course they froze.

The CEO of company, casually carrying his secretary like a groom at a Vegas wedding? It was the kind of visual that didn’t just spark rumors-it ignited them.

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<Chapter 228 Intoxicating Troubles

But I couldn’t exactly make a break for the exit.

+25 Points

Social optics demanded at least a few rounds of strategic small talk before disappearing into the

night.

So I paused.

Smiled.

Shook hands.

Nodded at the appropriate buzzwords.

Meanwhile, Cecilia entertained herself.

Eyes half-lidded, she began humming what I suspected was supposed to be Adele-though it sounded more like Adele if she were underwater and slightly possessed.

She fiddled with my tie like it was a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve, then let her fingers drift to my collarbone, trailing along the hollow of my throat.

The woman had absolutely zero grasp of what constituted a “career-limiting move.”

Half the room was trying not to stare. The other half was already rewriting the narrative for tomorrow’s office gossip.

Phones were out. I saw at least two flashes. The group chat chaos would be biblical by morning.

And yet, I let her do it.

Because Cecilia was the only chaos I didn’t mind surrendering to.

I caught bits of whispering-low, pointed, and not particularly subtle.

“Bosses aren’t usually this… tolerant.”

“Is she pulling his hair?”

“Someone should really talk to HR.”

Yes. Yes, she was pulling my hair.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening,” I said smoothly, closing out the last of my mandatory pleasantries.

I adjusted her in my arms and walked toward the exit.

My eyes landed on Sawyer, frozen in place, watching me like I’d just stepped on his weekend plans in designer shoes.

The look I gave him was clear as daylight: Move, or I’m calling maintenance to install a plaque in

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<Chapter 228 Intoxicating Troubles

your name.

Sawyer opened his mouth like he might say something, then hesitated,

His date was already gone, her heels clicking off into the night.

Outside, the four of us piled into the SUV.

Tang took the wheel.

Sawyer sulked in the passenger seat like a kid grounded on prom night.

I settled in, Cecilia warm and wine-sweet against my chest.

+25 Powe

For a few blissfully quiet blocks, she just sighed and mumbled nonsense, her head lolling against my shoulder.

Then she sat bolt upright, narrowed her eyes at me like I’d just insulted her grandmother, and

jabbed a finger at my jaw.

“Okay, important question,” she said solemnly. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

I blinked.

“… What ?”

She didn’t wait.

“No-wait-if I was a worm but also a time traveler. Like, a hot worm. With a tiny leather jacket.”

I stared at her, trying to make sense of any of that.

“Don’t overthink it,” she warned, slapping my arm like I was on a quiz show. “Answer now.”

“… Sure,” I said. “You’d be the hottest worm in history.”

She beamed. “Correct. You may proceed.”

Then she gasped, like something horrifying had just occurred to her.

“Oh my God. Do you think raccoons have secret societies?”

Tang snorted from the front seat. Sawyer choked on his own laugh.

“Did she say raccoons ?” Tang asked.

“She did,” I muttered.

“She’s gonna start talking about raccoon presidents in five-four-”

“-Three!” Cecilia shouted triumphantly. “President Peanut! King of the Alley!”

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<Chapter 228 Intoxicating Troubles

Sawyer lost it.

+25 Points

I ignored them all and focused on her, now babbling about raccoons in tuxedos and whether they eat pasta.

I let her talk. I let her spiral.

Because if this chaos made her feel safe in my arms, I’d carry it-raccoon conspiracies and all- without complaint.

By the time we pulled up to the house, I had only one thought :Next time, we’re pre-gaming with water and bread. Nothing fluorescent. Nothing with bubbles.

Once home, I told Sawyer to make something hot and salty. Anything that passed for sobering

broth would do.

Then I carried Cecilia upstairs.

We didn’t even make it to the bed.

She grabbed a handful of my shirt, buried her face in my chest, and threw up. Spectacularly.

The warmth soaked through the cotton and ran down my torso. The smell hit a second later-

sharp, sour, and impossible to ignore.

Soren recoiled inside me.

My jaw clenched. I probably went pale.

If it had been anyone else, I would have tossed them out the nearest window without a word.

Instead, I adjusted my grip and kept going.

“Feeling sick?” I asked, voice calm despite everything. “Let ‘s rinse your mouth first.”

I set her gently into a chair, grabbed a bottle of water from the nightstand, twisted the cap, and held it to her lips.

She had gone limp, completely drained. But the taste must ‘ve been unbearable, because she took a few sips and spat them out-not into the wastebasket I pointed her toward, but directly onto my

pants.

Perfect. Those were done for anyway.

Once she’d finished and her stomach settled, I carried her into the bathroom.

I set her down on the edge of the tub, then peeled off my ruined shirt and tossed it aside-my nose grateful for the reprieve.

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<Chapter 228 Intoxicating Troubles

Her black dress was next.

+25 Points

The zipper ran down her back. I carefully turned her, one hand supporting her neck, and slowly

drew it down.

The fabric slipped away like it had been waiting for permission, revealing soft curves and flushed skin, her hair tumbling loose over her shoulders.

She was stunning. Unapologetically so.

My breath caught, and for a moment, I just… looked.

Then I blinked, pushed the heat down, and turned on the water.

Once it was warm, I lifted her into the tub and let the water rise.

I’d never bathed another person before.

And bathing her? That was its own brand of hell.

I focused. Washed her face. Rinsed her hair. Worked methodically down, careful, clinical.

The lemony scent of body wash took over the air, slowly chasing away the ghost of wine and bile.

“Mmm…”

A soft sound, almost a purr, escaped her. Her eyes fluttered open, barely slits.

She looked up at me with that dazed, helpless kind of expression that hit harder than it should

have.

“I’m giving you a bath,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.

She didn’t resist.

In fact, she placed her hand over mine underwater, guiding the movement. Her fingers were warm.

Too warm.

Then, just as quickly, her expression changed-eyes watery, lip caught between her teeth, like she might cry.

“The water ‘s getting cold,” I said, pulling my hand back. “We ‘re done.”

My forearm twitched. Every muscle tense.

Soren stirred again, too close for comfort.

Cecilia reached for my arm like I was her favorite blanket, cheek pressing against my bicep. Her gaze lingered on my bare chest-but her intentions were unreadable.

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<Chapter 228 Intoxicating Troubles

Then she pouted and murmured, “… I want more bath.”

Soren growled low inside me, stirred by her scent, her softness, her total lack of defenses.

3

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