Chapter 340 Willow's Favorite Mitchell
"All opened, it's a waste not to drink." Following the principle of thrift, Willow thought she could slowly drink while watching the movie. The Red wine wasn't strong, and according to Mitchell's tolerance, it wouldn't make him drunk. As for Willow, she decided to drink a little less.
She brought over the scented candles she had bought while shopping at the supermarket at night. The scent was unexpectedly pleasant, a faint fragrance that wasn't overpowering.
She thought, 'I can buy more next time.’
Raising her head, she met Mitchell's slightly dark eyes. He had just finished showering, with slightly damp hair and unbuttoned navy-blue silk pajamas. His flawless-skinned chest and sexy collarbone were revealing. Above his collarbone, there was a prominent Adam's apple, gently moving, making Willow feel it was even more seductive than the collarbone...
A jumble of erotic images flooded uncontrollably into Willow's mind, and her cheeks flushed with a hint of blush. Glancing at the two glasses of Red wine on the coffee table, she belatedly thought to herself, 'Should I really be drinking so late at night?' Without time for further reflection, she said as she hurried to the bathroom, "I'm going to take a shower."
Mitchell watched her retreat in confusion, then turned to look at the set table with the Red wine and scented candles, assuming Willow was upset, and began self-reflecting. ‘Why did she run off? I didn't say she couldn't drink.’
In fact, Mitchell never stopped Willow from drinking. He just knew that she couldn't hold her liquor well and always ended up getting drunk. And when she was drunk, she'd act recklessly, but there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't be harsh with her, nor could he scold or get intimate with her... Yet, after flirting with him, she would simply go to sleep. After a cold shower to relax, he still couldn't bear to leave her alone while she was drunk. Suppressing his desire, he took care of her. It was truly torture for him...
Willow, after her shower, changed into the same beige silk pajamas that Mitchell had prepared in advance. She usually wore this when staying over. Stepping out of the room, she saw Mitchell sitting on the sofa, leaning back. He had already consumed half of the Red wine she had poured earlier.
She was puzzled. Mitchell had seemed reluctant to drink just a while ago. Why was he drinking now? She had thought of suggesting they save the Red wine for another day since the opened Red wine could be kept for a couple of days without any issues.
Approaching, she noticed from this angle, with her standing and Mitchell sitting, she had a high vantage point to see the unbuttoned section of his chest...
Not only his strong chest muscles but even the faint outline of his V-line could be vaguely seen. Willow's face, already slightly flushed from her shower, felt even hotter at this sight. She quickly turned away, lifted the glass, and downed it in one go. The smooth Red wine slid down her throat, making her feel even hotter.
Mitchell watched as she drank the whole glass in one go. He asked in his heart, ‘Does she really want to drink that badly?’
Willow set down the glass, feeling a sense of boldness from the Red wine. Mitchell picked up the bottle and poured her another glass.
Willow, puzzled by Mitchell's actions, turned to him. ‘What's going on? Why is he voluntarily pouring me more wine? Does he suddenly want to drink?’
Mitchell, seeing her perplexed gaze, became even more confused. ‘Why is she looking at me like that? If she wants to drink, just do it. If she gets too drunk, I’ll just give myself a few more cold showers.’
The TV was playing a movie that Mitchell had started playing while Willow was showering. It was a foreign film, so there were quite a few kissing scenes.
The male and female leads would embrace within three to five minutes and kiss every ten minutes. In the close-up shots on the TV screen, the lead actors were deeply entwined, reluctant to part.
Mitchell swore that if he had known there were so many kissing scenes, he wouldn't have chosen this movie to play. He had simply picked it because of its high ratings. Now, with both of them drinking, the indoor temperature seemed to rise, the lights off, candles lit, and the scent of the aroma lingering in the air, the atmosphere was becoming increasingly ambiguous.
Although only the candles were lit, when Willow turned her head, she could still see the exposed skin beneath Mitchell's pajamas. Feeling the heat rise to her face, she was relieved the lights were off, hoping Mitchell couldn't see clearly. The movie continued to play, and Willow, getting up from the sofa, said, "It's a bit warm. I'll adjust the air conditioning." She walked over to the air conditioning switch, fiddled with it for a while, and lowered the temperature.
Alright, 73 degrees should be cooler.
Mitchell watched her adjust the air conditioning without saying a word, feeling the heat himself, as if there was a fire burning within him. Even lowering the air conditioning didn't seem to quell the heat in his body. He picked up his glass, finished the remaining wine, poured himself another full glass, and downed most of it in one go.
Willow returned to the sofa, watching Mitchell drink. Unable to hold back, she asked, "Didn't you say you didn't want to drink just now?"
Mitchell paused, then leisurely replied, "Can't let it go to waste." Willow's gaze lingered on his rolling Adam's apple and the alluring collarbone, causing a tingling sensation in her heart. She quickly lifted her glass and began to drink.
Mitchell furrowed his brow slightly, watching Willow continue to drink, inevitably wondering if she was drinking to forget about the photoshoot incident during the day. "Willow, are you not happy today?" With that, he thought in his heart, ‘Is she worried about being discovered by people in the company because of the photo shoot?’
Willow had lost count of how many glasses she had drunk, but her alcohol tolerance was truly average. She was starting to feel a bit dizzy and ended up sitting on the carpet. Listening to Mitchell's words, she tilted her head, one hand supporting her head, the other holding the wine bottle, her gaze somewhat confused, smiling as she looked at Mitchell. "Huh? Not at all, I'm very happy, especially happy. Your cooking is really delicious. I like you the most."
Mitchell felt like an arrow had pierced his heart with those words. Gently lifting her from the carpet, his eyes, as dark as the night sky, gazed at her, shining like stars. ‘Willow had just said she liked me the most.’
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