Arnold Simmons lowered his voice, a teasing tone sneaking in, "If he doesn’t want you, be with , I’ll treat you better."
The young girl seed unable to recognize him. Her eyes weren’t fully opened, and she stared at him fixedly.
As soon as he finished speaking, he felt a pang of unease. He felt as if he was trying to corner himself.
He thought he should let it go, but to his surprise, the young girl responded, "That might not be impossible."
Still, that sweet and soft voice of hers could kill him at any mont with the words it produced.
He fastened the last button of the garnt on the woman in his arms, and looking at her increasingly bright red lips, he wanted nothing more than to bite them.
But in the end, he just didn’t have the heart. He moved, his slightly cold lips eting her hot cheek.
The coolness on her cheek made Hannah give a contented sigh. She couldn’t help but rub against it, uttering a soft mumble, "But if I don’t want him, he’ll probably be really hurt and sad, won’t he?"
Arnold’s temples throbbed. He moved away a bit, his voice tinged with gritted teeth, "No."
The young girl ignored him and continued to muse to herself: "If I don’t want him, he will have to live alone for the rest of his life. Maybe in the future, he will only have frogs for company, after all, frogs trapped in jars can’t escape."
Arnold Simmons said nothing.
The hospital room was so quiet that the rustling of leaves in the wind outside could be heard.
He stared at the girl’s flushed face as if to reveal a flower blooming on it.
Both frustrated and helpless.
In the end, he couldn’t help but sigh, "Go to sleep. I’ll settle the score with you when you wake up."
At his sigh, Hannah, sick in bed, completely relaxed her body and once again fell into a deep sleep.
When Hannah woke up, the hospital room door was ajar, the sounds of two people talking faintly coming through.
Even though her brain was still foggy, Hannah recognized one of the voices as Arnold’s.
Not long after, Arnold ca in with so dicine, the sight of a figure discreetly watching him from beneath the covers greeted him. He wore no expression on his face, seeming a bit cold.
Hannah blinked, not understanding the situation, and spoke first, "Why is Mr. Simmons here?"
The man sat down next to the bed, without looking at the girl on the bed. His aura was sowhat gloomy. He held up a bowl of porridge and fed a spoonful to Hannah.
Hannah leaned in to take a sip and asked, her voice even softer, sowhat ingratiating, "Doesn’t Mr. Simmons have to work today?"
Arnold remained silent, his actions constantly gentle, but his dark eyes seed to be brewing so huge storm.
He was angry.
Hannah could tell, but she didn’t understand why.
Once the bowl of porridge was empty, Arnold put the bowl aside and took a paper towel to wipe the girl’s mouth.
His towering figure completely towered over the girl in bed. His fingers held the girl’s chin, while one hand gently wiped a piece of paper towel across her bright red lips.
Using a bit of force.
In a mont, her lips took on an even more luscious hue.
Hannah wanted to move her face away out of discomfort, but her chin was being firmly held by the man.
The force wasn’t strong, but she couldn’t break free, there was no resisting it.
eting his dark, deep eyes, Hannah blinked and tears welled up, "Mr. Simmons, are you angry?"
Listening to the girl’s soft crying voice, Arnold let go of her chin.
On her originally fair and delicate skin, two faint impressions of his fingers could be seen.
Arnold’s eyes darkened, his expression was cold.
As fragile as ever.
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