Weston made Stella stand up.
She glanced at her potted plants destroyed by the man who fell in earlier and became somewhat distressed.
âThe soil is full of broken glass...â she grumbled.
âLet others deal with it.â
Westonâs eyebrows twitched when he saw that she was about to clean up the soil with her bare hands.
With a much sterner voice, he told her, âStop. Youâll hurt your hands.â
He forbade her from doing anything else and pulled her away.
âDid you get hurt just now?â
âNo,â she shook her head. âI didnât.â
She then paused to think before asking, âDoes your mom have a heart disease?â
âYeah,â he answered briefly, casting his eyes down at her. âSheâs had it for many years.
âWeâll move to another room,â he told her as he led her to the bathroom. âSomeone will come and move our stuff later. Right now, you should wash all the dirt off your paws.â
Weston was a notorious neat freak. In fact, he was almost at his limit when he had to suppress his revulsion while holding her dirty hands.
âThese arenât paws,â Stella muttered with a pout. âThese are my hands...â
He chuckled and placed her hands beneath the faucet before washing them meticulously. The metal wash basin was lavish, and the gray countertop was spotless. This choice of color gave the room a chic atmosphere while not looking too cold and impersonal . Stellaâs hands were milky white, making her skin look as delicate as jade. The peach fuzz on the back of her hand and the flush of pink on the exposed fleshy parts of her fingers starkly contrasted against the dark gray backdrop, making her skin look exceptionally translucent and exquisite.
âStella...â Weston stood behind her, almost encircling her within his arms. His lips were right next to her ear when he softly murmured in a hoarse voice, âHow is it so fair, hmm?â
He was referring to her skin.
Stella turned her head slightly away, trying to avert from his touch. But no matter how she tried to evade him, he still caught up to her, with his hot breath filling the crook of her neck.
âAnd so, so tender...â he murmured before planting kisses from the back of her ear to her cheek. âYou smell divine.â
âWeston...â Stella remained relatively clearâheaded. âItâs still early. Itâs not even dark outside...â
Weston was a stoic man who had always kept his feelings and emotions concealed. Only when he was in bed would he say such sweet and tender words to her. He was especially generous with praise when he was ablaze with desire.
He had always been captivated by her body. He didnât just love her skin, but he even adored her feet.
Whenever his passion was at its peak, the praises he lavished on her far exceeded these...
And they always made Stella blush to the roots of her hair. She would sometimes be so flustered by his words that no matter how exhausted she was from their lovemaking , she would still try to cover his mouth with her trembling hands so that he would stop talking.
âDoes that mean,â Weston chuckled and teased her by twisting her words, âthat youâd be okay if we do this after dark?â
As he spoke, he interlaced his long fingers between hers. The sensation of their rubbing knuckles created shockwaves; it was as if an electrical spark passed through them as they touched. He was only washing her hands, yet he managed to arouse an ardently erotic sensation inside her. Her knees were now weak. She could only lean back against his chest and moaned, âWeston...â
Her voice was sultry and smooth as silk as his name lingered on her lips for much longer than usual.
Weston knew that she was at her limits. If he kept on teasing her, her eyes would redden, and she wouldnât be able to handle it.
âWeâre done,â he said. âYour hands are clean now.â
He slowly let go of her and grabbed a paper towel to wipe her hands dry.
âYour fingernails are getting quite long,â he commented. âIsnât it time to trim them?â
He always paid extraordinary attention to her body. Nothing, not even the tiniest detail, could escape his notice.
âThey are quite long indeed,â she replied as she glanced at them, âbut theyâre not so long that they get in the way.â