William Foster had a smile at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes revealed a trace of happiness: "I heard."
His smile was like a blooming flower, warm and captivating.
Seeing him still smiling brightly, Clara Bennett shook her head helplessly: "Oh, how can you be so carefree."
Her tone carried a hint of reproach, but there was a subtle gentleness in her gaze.
She clearly said it’s not because he ca back, and he’s still so happy?
This thought flashed through Clara’s mind, leaving her a little puzzled.
William’s inner thoughts: Of course I’m happy, my little wife is clearly saying one thing but aning another.
No matter what excuse Clara found, William was convinced she missed him, which is why she hurried back to see him.
He knew she was trying every way to hide it, but everything was within his expectations.
Through Clara’s behavior in the videos, he knew she was trying to secretly give him a surprise.
In every call, her eyes, tone, and every subtle movent, he could capture the fluctuations in her heart.
And Clara had no idea that her little sches were completely transparent to William, thinking she had disguised them well.
She thought she had successfully hidden her feelings, but in reality, William had already seen through them.
Alright then, just treat myself as a cold, nominal wife.
Clara silently told herself, but there was still an unbreakable emotional bond in her heart.
And so, this cool lady went to take a shower with the clingy Sir Foster.
The bathroom was filled with warm steam, making it exceptionally cozy.
It was supposed to be an enjoyable mont, but during the shower, William accidentally noticed the scar on Clara’s leg, and he was instantly a bit upset.
The marks were obvious, clearly left during filming.
He knew it was from acting, but he was still very unhappy.
William looked at those bruises with heartache, thinking, her legs were long, straight, delicate, and fair, yet they were hurt by work, which he found unbearable.
He was always careful to control his strength when gently holding her ankle in bed, fearing he might accidentally leave his fingerprint.
But now, seeing these wounds, everything else seed insignificant, and all William could do was ask with concern: "Was filming smooth? Were the fight scenes hard? Did you get hurt?"
He hoped Clara would take this chance to act spoiled, and then he would find a private doctor to take good care of her.
However, to his surprise, Clara didn’t take these small injuries to heart at all: "Everything went smoothly, my acting skills were recognized by everyone, the fight scenes weren’t difficult, I handled everything easily. There’s no need to worry about getting hurt, I’m so strong, who could hurt ."
William was taken aback for a mont and sighed lightly in his heart.
Of course, he should have known Clara wouldn’t easily show weakness.
Whatever she felt, she kept it to herself, even if it hurt terribly, she would never say it.
To avoid making things more complicated, William didn’t say more, fearing unnecessary misunderstandings.
After they ca out of the bathroom, Clara looked at William’s wet hair and suddenly had an idea: "Let dry your hair for you."
She rembered touching William’s hair a few tis before, and it felt nice, now she had a chance to touch that soft hair once more.
William was happy to enjoy the service, smiling as he nodded, "Okay."
Clara sat at the dressing table, picked up the hairdryer, and began to carefully dry William’s hair.
Since his hair was still wet and easy to style, Clara pondered for a few seconds, then suddenly had a brainwave and used her hand to push all of William’s hair up into a pointy style.
William couldn’t help but laugh.
Seeing all this in the mirror, William went: "..."
If there’s anyone in this world bold enough to touch Sir Foster’s hair, it would be no one other than Clara.
She completely disregarded William’s identity and status, acting boldly and confidently.
Her fingers moved skillfully and confidently through William’s soft black hair.
Clara took advantage of William not being able to see, and even more audaciously tried several hairstyles with a comb.
The first few styles were quite handso, his hair combed up made William look especially noble, like a prince, which made Clara’s heart beat faster involuntarily.
She secretly took out her phone, held her breath, and gently pressed the capture button, taking a few precious photos as a nto.
William, though silent, slightly tucked his chin to make himself appear more handso.
His jawline was clear, and his features flawless.
However, this had limited effect. After all, Sir Foster’s looks were already extrely high, charming no matter what.
His every subtle move radiated an irresistible allure.
After taking the photos, Clara glanced at the rubber band on her wrist and suddenly had a mischievous idea to tie a little braid for William.
This thought filled her with excitent and anticipation, as if she was about to take on a bold challenge.
She felt that this move would not only entertain her but also test her place in his heart.
William, not wanting to embarrass himself at this mont, quickly asked: "Little wife, what are you doing? Aren’t you going to continue drying?"
His voice carried a hint of alertness, clearly sensing sothing amiss.
He seed to have detected sothing unusual, and his tone revealed a bit of tension.
Clara, startled, quickly stopped her actions and pretended to cough casually as she said: "Getting started now."
She tried to make her tone sound natural, without revealing any flaws.
Her eyes flickered as she tried to cover up her inner nervousness and panic.
William tempted her: "Little wife, do you want to help dry your hair first? Your hair is long, be careful not to catch a cold."
He seed to want to divert her attention in this way.
His tone was gentle, full of care and concern, clearly hoping she would stop ssing with his hair.
Clara firmly replied: "No worries, I’ve wrapped my hair in an absorbent towel, no rush, let’s dry yours first."
She secretly rejoiced for not being caught and seized the opportunity to continue her plan.
Her hands trembled slightly, but she remained calm on the surface.
No sooner had she finished speaking, Clara switched on the hairdryer again, blowing his hair while secretly rejoicing she hadn’t been discovered.
She took the opportunity to stroke his hair a few more tis, savoring the delicate and soft texture, and couldn’t help but feel a touch of tenderness in her heart.
William’s hair moved gently under her hands, as if silently conveying sothing.
After finishing drying his hair, she couldn’t help but nudge his hair strands, and softly asked: "Has anyone ever told you that your hair is nice to massage?"
Her words were full of curiosity and warmth, eyes sparkling with anticipation and joy.
Her fingers gently stroked those smooth locks, feeling an indescribable warmth.
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