Harry Hunter shalessly insisted, "Take off the blanket, let see how it is. If necessary, I’ll apply so ointnt."
Isabella Weaver refused to let him look no matter what, wrapping herself like a silkworm cocoon in the blanket, and then ordered him, "I’m thirsty, go pour so water!"
Harry imdiately went to pour her so water.
He walked around the room with his nearly perfect body, causing Isabella to cover her eyes in embarrassnt, "Put so clothes on!"
"Ah, the fickle heart of a woman. Last night, you loved touching everywhere, and today you want to get dressed. You change fast!"
Harry sat by the bed with a glass of water, unabashedly showing off his smooth and firm abs. He rembered his little wife loved them.
Isabella snatched the water from him and tossed clothes over his head, "Put them on, now!"
Harry sighed helplessly, "At your service, my lady."
The room already had a full set of new clothes sent by Connor, and Harry quickly dressed, instantly transforming back into a high-class, coolly elegant man.
Isabella watched him, amused that even his ssy hair couldn’t dim his cold and noble aura, and suddenly she burst into laughter.
Harry leaned down and gave her a kiss, "What’s going on in that little head of yours? Why such a mischievous laugh?"
"Nothing." She just thought marrying him was totally worth it! Such an outstandingly handso man must be worth a fortune on the market.
Harry had no idea his little wife was imagining him as a gigolo, making money by sleeping around. He was feeling refreshed and secretly proud because he had fulfilled his promise from last night: to make her unable to get out of bed the next day!
He went to the bathroom to wash up, and when he returned, he saw that Isabella was already dressed, though her face was still flushed.
"Harry, did you wipe off last night?" She had just noticed that her entire body was squeaky clean.
"Yes."
Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered, "I’ve seen everything. It’s a bit swollen. I thought it would be better by this morning. I didn’t expect you’d be in such pain, and you still won’t let take a look."
Isabella’s face and neck turned tomato red!
She pushed Harry away and wanted to rush to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face, but after taking just two steps, the pain made her knit her brows together.
This ti, Harry was genuinely concerned, his expression changing, and he hurriedly picked her up and placed her back on the bed. He held her hand and asked, "Should I ask Johan Niles to prescribe you so dicine?"
"No way!"
Isabella felt that would be too embarrassing!
"I’m not in pain! I don’t need dicine!"
"If not him, then I’ll find another doctor to get the dication."
Harry kissed her forehead, soothing and apologetic, "Be good, don’t move around. Lie down properly, I’ll make a phone call."
Isabella watched him leave the room, then wrapped herself back in the blanket.
Too embarrassing!
A while later, Harry returned, carrying breakfast.
Isabella, having been exhausted by him the entire night, was starving. The sll of food tempted her to poke her head out from under the covers.
Harry sat by the bed, holding a bowl, calling out to her, "Co here; I’ll feed you."
Isabella gave him a reproachful look, "I can eat by myself."
"No, I want to feed you!"
Harry put down the bowl, pulled her over along with the blanket, then unwrapped the blanket, propped up the pillow for her to lean against, and resud feeding her the porridge.
Isabella took a bite and couldn’t help saying, "With you doing this, I feel like I’m disabled."
Harry leaned in to kiss her, "It’s okay, I’m willing to take care of you."
Suddenly feeling cheerful, Isabella extended her arms and hugged Harry, "Hmm, being a disabled person isn’t so bad!"
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