Chapter 62: Frustration

Steven's mind struggled free from the memories held by the photo frame, and his gaze fell upon the person in front of him.
Monica studied the small ornaments on the cabinet for a while, quickly losing interest. She lowered her head and opened a drawer, surprised, "There are...
"How come there are still a few watches here?" And they look very familiar as if he used to wear them often.
Steven's calm voice echoed from above: "You forgot, every year on my birthday, you always give me watches."
Directly mailed from the store to his house, it's always the same brand, always the latest style, a thoughtless choice that looks very perfunctory.
Every year it's the same old thing, and he almost laughs when he receives it, but he still dutifully wears it.
She took out a watch and examined it, hummed, "I used to dislike you so much, it's already good enough that I give you gifts."
Steven caught the loophole in her words, "Don't you dislike me anymore?"
She was speechless when asked, but she didn't want to give in to him, so she forcefully threw the watch into his arms.
Why must everything be asked so clearly!
The two of them left the bedroom to have a meal. Monica thought Steven would order takeout from the restaurant, but he unexpectedly cooked himself, and it looked delicious with a great presentation.
Thinking about the detailed travel itinerary he made, Monica increasingly felt that Steven, as a person, had a strong sense of domesticity.
The words "domesticity" and "home" suddenly emerged in her mind, making her startled.
"Wait." Steven spoke up, interrupting her thoughts.
"What's wrong?"
He reached out and held her chin, his fingertips brushing over her mouth, the warmth of his touch friction against her, his gaze moving along with his hand, slowly gliding over her cheeks.
She looked at him, and his well-defined jawline seemed to be softened in the shadow of the backlight.
Sensing her gaze, he also looked over, his fingers freezing on her face, not moving, the place where they touched gradually feeling warmer.
It was still Steven who broke the silence first. He withdrew his hand and took out a tissue to wipe, "There's a grain of rice."
Monica refused to admit it and muttered, "You did it on purpose. How could I possibly get rice on my face?"
"Mhm." He took up his chopsticks again, "You're right."
They finished their meal, and as Steven sent her home, Lawrence called.
Monica saw the name on the screen and exclaimed, "Ah. I promised him to let him know when I got home."
In the end, she completely forgot about it due to Steven's fever incident.
Because she was changing her shoes at the entrance, she had to hold the phone with her shoulder against her ear while stooping down to lace her shoes.
"Hello? Lawrence?"
She wobbled and couldn't stand still, so Steven leaned down considerately, gripping her calf and helping her put on her shoes.
Lawrence laughed on the phone, "I didn't receive your message last night and was wondering if you were too tired."
"Yeah...a little."
Steven finished putting on her shoes but didn't rush to get up. His fingertips traced up from her ankle, intimately smoothing out the wrinkles in the soft fabric of her long socks.
He even lightly flicked the sock opening.
Monica almost forgot what she was about to say next.
All of the things she wore were bought by Steven, learning from his exquisite taste and well-dressed choices.
The long stockings with leather shoes exude a student-like charm. At first glance, one might think she has some strange fetish when she wears them.
Later, he explained that he asked his Caspar to buy a set of clothes from a random store.
The assistant, Caspar, didn't know anything about women's clothing, so she sought help from her cousin who was still studying and picked out this outfit.
Fortunately, the effect of this outfit was really good on her. It accentuated her youthful and beautiful appearance, leaving Monica very satisfied.
She even specially tied her hair into twin tails.
"You made it home safely," Lawrence smiled. "I was just chatting with my grandfather, and he said he hasn't seen you for a long time."
His slightly cool fingertips continued to slide up her leg, pinching the soft flesh of her thigh and circling it before gently pulling down the raised hem of her skirt.
"...It has indeed been a long time since I last visited," Monica pushed his hand away.
Steven took the opportunity to stand up, lowered his head to look at her, and engulfed her in his shadow.
He reached his hand out to her waist, adjusting the position of the skirt's waistband. His remaining fingers slipped into the waistband, absentmindedly rubbing against her buttocks.
Monica's breathing became slightly rapid, and she anxiously glared at him, only to find him looking very serious and composed, as if he was genuinely tidying her clothes.
Once the skirt was adjusted, Steven's hands didn't leave. They naturally moved up from her waist, slipping into her jacket.
One hand straightened the shirt that had been tucked into the skirt's waistband, while the other hand smoothed out the wrinkles created by their movements on the back of her shirt.
He was very close, almost about to embrace her.
The sound of his breath fell softly on her head, and the warmth of his palm pressed against her skin through the thin fabric, sending shivers down her spine with his every touch.
Monica almost pressed her forehead against his shoulder, trying to focus on the conversation with Lawrence on the phone.
"If you're free... okay..."
Due to her well-endowed figure, the gap between the buttons of her shirt at the collar was slightly stretched, faintly revealing the spring scenery inside.
Steven considerately adjusted her collar, applying a slight pressure with his fingertips, submerging them into the soft cleavage, neither too light nor too heavy, smoothing out any creases on her chest.
Her body was being tantalized, and Monica almost made a sound, wanting to move back. However, there was a door behind her, and she had nowhere to escape.
Thus, she could only awkwardly grab onto his clothes, hoping he would temporarily stop.
But Steven clearly wasn't finished yet.
After tidying the shirt, he withdrew his hands and adjusted the collar of her jacket. His fingertips lightly smoothed out the folded collar, then glided over her slender neck and exposed collarbone.
It seemed casual, but it made her incredibly itchy.
"...Hmm, yes, that's fine..." Monica found it difficult to concentrate, "We'll discuss it later..."
Finally, Steven gently placed both hands behind her, slowly caressing her nape, gathering up and loosening her hair strands, and combing them again with his fingertips.
It was a perfectly normal action, but under his unhurried touch, it became incredibly Erotic and provocative.
Monica bit her lip, too preoccupied to listen to what Lawrence was saying. She responded vaguely and hung up the phone, feeling somewhat annoyed.
"Why are you disturbing me?" she snapped.
Steven retracted his hand and calmly said, "I'm just taking the most efficient approach. Look, you've made the phone call, and your clothes are ready. We can leave now."
He looked at her slightly flushed cheeks, gently placed his hand on her waist, and stared at her intently.
Slowly, he said, "Or should we wait a while before we leave?"
His actions and teasing words were overly obvious. Monica couldn't resist, still feeling the heat from their previous encounter.
She was almost unwillingly pulled into his arms, but before their lips could meet, Steven's hand behind her opened the door.
"I suddenly remembered. It's getting late, and it's better to go home early." He let go of her hand and nonchalantly said, "Let's go."
His tone was extremely casual, as if he hadn't just teased her.
For the first time, Monica felt unsatisfied desire.
With her face flushed, she gritted her teeth and gave him a hard foot stomp.