Finding her reaction hilarious, Weston suddenly leaned in closer to her, kissing her on the nose. âWhich part of your body have I not seen? Why are you still so shy?â Stella pushed him away. âNo need. I can do it myself.â Westonâs brows furrowed as he looked at her. He had thought that she was angry because he refused to listen to her and insisted on carrying her all the way to the car. Now that he thought about it, it seems like there was another reason for her anger. Weston said in a teasing voice, âSeems like I thought wrong. Are you jealous?â He had stood up for Daisy, reacting to the displeasure of hearing Stella talk about her first love. Who asked her to gush about how heroic and valiant her first crush was?
He wanted to let her witness how anyone can do something so trivial, and, therefore, it was not worthy for her to remember for so many years.
Who knew that she would be jealous over something so trivial? âJealous?â Stellaâs eyes widened in disbelief as she looked at him as if he just cracked the greatest joke of all time. âYou must be dreaming.â Weston didnât like her dismissive tone and pinched her nose, âWhat? Does the great Stella Sealey not know how to be jealous?â Stella shook her head, âI wouldnât do something so immature.â
âReally?â Weston leaned closer to her and whispered in a low voice that was laced with threats. Stella found that the man before her was behaving in a bewildering way. Why did he behave like he would get angry if she werenât jealous? âDo you like to see me jealous?â Weston remained silent as he stared at her. Stella sighed. âFine, I am jealous. Are you happy now?â
He knew that she was just placating him, but his facial features subconsciously softened at her words.
He pressed his forehead against hers and kissed her lips. âDonât worry. You are the only one who can make me lose control.â The corner of Stellaâs lips lifted. She found his words ironic and bordering on hilarious. As a man who was already a father, did he not feel shy saying something so mushy? Weston held Stellaâs arms up and lifted her shirt up again. This time, she did not stop him.
âOver here?â he asked as his long fingers touched her skin.. Stella inhaled sharply as intense pain shot through her back Weston stopped moving immediately, his heart aching at seeing her pained expression. The next time he tried to move his fingers, he did so much more gently. His warm palm rubbed the injured area gently as his eyes turned downcast.
Her previous wound hadnât even recovered completely, leaving light bruises in its wake. Yet now, she was bumped so hard that it aggravated her old injury. Although her skin wasnât punctured, the bruise was huge and jarring on the eyes. Westonâs hands paused in mid-air as he spoke in a hoarse voice. âI really should have broken his legs.â Stellaâs skin was fine and delicate, and he couldnât even bear to use much force on the bed. Who was that man to wound her like this?
His actions were overly careful and gentle, like a feather brushing across the skin. Stella felt like a fragile doll made of glass and squirmed in discomfort. âYou donât have to be so careful⦠Iâm not an infant.â
Weston remained silent as he focused on applying the ointment to her injury and gently rubbing her back A moment later, he said, âYour skin bruises so easily. Whatâs the difference between you and an infant?â
He treated her so delicately, like she was his most precious treasure in the world. Complicated feelings started emerging in Stellaâs heart. The more he treated her well, the more it confused her. Was the man currently treating her like treasure the same man who had abandoned her so ruthlessly back then? Did all men have the same ability as he did, to dote on you to the skies when he loved you and throw you into hell without hesitation when he no longer did?