Chapter 166 I Am at Your Door
She whispered, "No, it's not that serious."
Previously, she had mild menstrual cramps and would always prepare in advance, so Francis never knew anything.
Moreover, every time she had her period, she would sleep while holding Francis. His body heat was like a warm glowing ember, making her feel very comfortable.
This time, it came out of nowhere, and she wasn't prepared. With her poor recovery from the miscarriage, the pain was especially severe.
She lowered her eyes and noticed that his shirt cuff seemed a bit red. Her face immediately turned red, and she pointed at his sleeve and said, "You should wash."
Francis looked down and saw the red stain.
He had an obsession with cleanliness, but at this moment, he didn't mind it. He nodded and said, "I'll go take a shower."
Harper watched his back, and her long lashes gently lowered.
She knew about his obsession with cleanliness. He would be unhappy if his clothes were even a little dirty.
But now, he didn't mind her blood.
As she was pondering this, perhaps the medicine took effect, and she fell into an exhausted sleep.
In the middle of the night, Harper turned over, and her arm brushed against something.
She was startled and opened her eyes abruptly, only to find a man sleeping next to her.
Harper reached out to turn on the bedside lamp as her body stiffened. She blinked and confirmed that it was Francis sleeping beside her.
He seemed to be woken up by her, and his deep eyes were full of displeasure as he stared at her.
"You..."
Harper grabbed the blanket, wrapped it around herself, and after a long while, squeezed out, "You're a pervert."
"What?"
Francis seemed not fully awake as his voice was lazy and raspy.
Harper's face turned as red as an apple, and she pointed at him. "Why are you naked?"
Francis looked down at himself, remembered what had happened, and said righteously, "My clothes were dirty."
He even started to act shamelessly; he didn't cover himself with the blanket and pulled it aside to reveal his well-defined abs.
"I'm hot."
"You're talking nonsense. It's December, and you feel hot?"
Francis had an excellent head-to-body ratio, with a waist, abdomen, and legs that seemed perfectly measured. Even with clothes on, his hormones were overwhelming, let alone now when he was only wearing boxer shorts.
His physique was unmatched, even by male models.
The more Harper looked at him, the redder her face became.
No wonder she felt warm and comfortable all the time.
It turned out he was holding her and naked.
"I am more sensitive. Is that okay?" he retorted unceremoniously, turned over, and got out of bed.
After a while, he brought over a cup of coconut juice and a painkiller, shoved them in her face, and said, "Drink this, and then take the painkiller."
Harper took them, and her face went a bit red.
He was so considerate. Given that it was the middle of the night, his behavior made her feel like a male escort was attending to her.
After Harper drank up, Francis took the cup away, and Harper noticed that the back of his fair hand was red.
Francis' skin was always better than a woman's, smooth and glowing.
Harper asked, "What happened?"
"Nothing."
Francis didn't want to say more. He couldn't possibly admit that he hurt himself while opening the coconut, as that would sound a bit embarrassing.
He walked to the door with the bowl, suddenly turned his head, leaned against the door frame, and looked at her with a smirk. "Do you feel sorry for me?"
Harper instantly feigned a smile and said, "You're overthinking it."
Francis snorted coldly and left.
Harper was frustrated and wanted to bite her tongue off. She shouldn't have said that!
A woman feeling sorry for a man would bring bad luck, and pitying a man would bring misfortune.
This was a truth she must never forget.
How could she sleep so soundly while Francis was on her bed?
They didn't have the kind of intimate relationship that warranted sharing a bed.
When Francis returned, Harper had already regained her composure and said indifferently, "Mr. Getty, thank you for tonight. It's late, and you should go back."
Francis stared at her and sneered as he said, "Now you know it's late."
"It's the middle of the night. And a man and a woman were alone in a room. What do you think people would think of that?"
Harper originally wanted to say he should leave to prevent his new girlfriend from misunderstanding. Still, she was afraid he would narcissistically think she was jealous, so she chose a more discreet way.
But in Francis' eyes, it meant something else entirely.
He smirked coldly, "You're afraid Keith will misunderstand us? That's understandable. After all, he spent forty thousand dollars on you. If you sleep with me now, you'd indeed be letting him down."
His words were harsh, making Harper clench her fists.
She didn't want to speak, her face cold as she urged, "Just leave."
But instead of retreating, Francis advanced, pulled the blanket, got into bed, and wrapped Harper in his arms.
His body was very hot, like a furnace against Harper.
Harper struggled, but he pinned her hands to her chest from behind, threatening, "Be good. Stop moving and tempting me."
Harper was truly at a loss for words.
She was already uncomfortable with abdominal pain and didn't have the strength to argue with him.
Moreover, she gradually realized that his body was warm, and his large hand was constantly massaging her abdomen, sending a warm flow into her body, which made her feel soft and comfortable and even eased her stomach pain.
In the quiet night, Francis lowered his eyes to look at her slender, fair neck for a moment. His Adam's apple was moving, and his eyes were filled with determination.
He said slowly, "Harper, you two won't be together."
No one else could take what he had marked unless he didn't want it.
After a while, he turned off the light.
Harper didn't fall asleep, but she didn't make a sound either. Her nerves were tightly wound until she couldn't resist and fell into a deep sleep.
In the morning, Harper was woken up by the ring of her phone.
Usually, she would be a bit grumpy in the morning and let the phone ring a few more times.
Suddenly, a man's voice came from the phone.
"Harper, are you awake?"
She opened her eyes abruptly, which met Francis's deep, unfathomable gaze.
He propped his head with one hand and held her phone with the other as he pressed the button.
"Harper?"
Keith's voice came through the phone again.
Harper's heart skipped a beat, and she replied after a moment, "I'm here."
As she spoke, she reached for the phone. Francis didn't tease her and handed it to her directly.
Harper made a fierce gesture to him to shut up.
After she did that, Francis' eyes narrowed dangerously, staring at her.
Harper didn't care and continued talking on the phone as he asked, "What's up?"
"I want to invite you to dinner," Keith said.
Before Harper could respond, her body suddenly stiffened.
Francis rolled over and pressed down on her as his eyes were cold as he pinched her chin and lightly sucked along the marks he had left. And his other hand was kneading her full hips, and his actions were filled with desire.
Harper's breathing became heavy.
After a moment, she gritted her teeth, and her voice was trembling slightly as she asked, "Where are you?"
This question displeased Francis. He reached to unbutton her nightgown as his kisses moved from her chin to her neck and then to her delicate collarbone, leaving a trail of enticing pink marks.
Keith said, "I'm at your door."
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