Chapter 342 Luring and Sleeping
In the bathroom, Mitchell stood under the shower head, eyes closed, letting the cold water run from his head to toe. After a while of cold showering, the heat in his heart seemed to persist, unable to be washed away.
Willow was becoming bolder, especially after drinking, she knew how to flirt with him...
However, it was still too early for them to sleep together. He hadn't formally visited her parents yet, and it hadn't been long since they confirmed their feelings for each other.
Mitchell turned off the water, standing in the shower room. His tightly closed eyelashes trembled slightly. As his hand moved downward, when he opened his eyes again, his dark eyes seemed almost mesmerizing, his restrained desire reaching its breaking point.
The usually cool face now bore a hint of lust, captivating the heart.
When he came out of the bathroom, Willow was lying quietly on the bed with her eyes closed, breathing evenly. He couldn't help but smile, thinking, ‘She’s always like this. She lures me and then falls asleep. And she’ll sleep more soundly than usual.’
The next morning, when Willow woke up, it was already 9 o'clock in the morning, the time for work.
She had a slight headache, having drunk a bit too much yesterday, but there was a hint of clarity. She remembered some things and pulled the blanket over her face.
Stretching her arm out from under the blanket, she found her phone on the bedside table, probably placed there by Mitchell. Looking at it, it was already nine o'clock, and she was still in bed. ‘Oh, man. I’m late for work. Why didn't the alarm go off? Did Mitchell go to work? Why didn't he wake me up?’ asked her in her heart.
She hurriedly got out of bed, changed into clothes, washed up, and walked out of the room, only to freeze in place.
Mitchell had changed into another silk pajama, a different color from the one he wore last night, with the buttons of the silk shirt neatly fastened all the way to the top. Willow watched his consciously restrained emotional expression, and fragments of memories flashed through her mind.
Last night, she seemed to have bitten his collarbone.
Mitchell sat on the sofa, staring at the TV screen, watching financial news. Hearing a sound, he turned to see Willow standing at the room's doorway and asked in a casual tone, "Awake?"
Willow stood at the room's doorway. "Yes," she said and then walked over slowly. "Why didn't you go to the office? Seems like you're late." It was certain that she was late, and now she didn't know whether to ask for leave or rush over.
Mitchell's dark eyes turned to her rosy face. "I took the day off." Willow was momentarily stunned before realizing, "I haven't asked for leave."
"I helped you ask for leave. Stay at home and rest today." Mitchell smiled.
"Oh." Willow was stunned. Mitchell helped her ask for leave, wasn't that...
Mitchell looked at her conflicted expression and added, "I used your phone to message your manager on Facebook."
"I see." Willow breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed.
Mitchell got up and walked to the kitchen, bringing out a pot of hangover soup he had prepared, saying to her, "Still feeling uncomfortable? Come and have some hangover soup."
"Okay," Willow obediently replied, then walked to the table. Mitchell handed her the bowl of hangover soup. "Drink up."
Willow took the bowl, and drank it with her head down, occasionally stealing glances at Mitchell in front of her, feeling guilty. When she looked up, she saw a red mark on his throat. She then felt even more guilty.
Last night, she seemed to have touched that area too. Was it her doing?
Despite the fact that she had drunk too much and was driven by alcohol to do things she shouldn't have, she still felt deeply guilty as the instigator.
"What's wrong?" Mitchell noticed she wasn't drinking the soup much, thinking she didn't like it. "Even if it's not tasty, you should drink more, or your head will hurt."
"It's good." Willow raised the bowl and finished the hangover soup in one go. Mitchell took the empty bowl, looked at her calmly, raising his eyebrows gently until she noticed his gaze and asked softly, "What's wrong?"
Only then did Mitchell smile. "Drink less in the future."
"Okay." Willow lowered her head.
Mitchell felt somewhat helpless. Willow always obediently agreed, making him feel like he was in the wrong with every additional word, but with his indulgence, it wasn't entirely her fault. He should blame himself.
He returned to the kitchen and ladled out a bowl of pepper pot. "Eat it, then rest in bed for a while." Then he walked past Willow back to the living room, continuing to watch his news.
Smelling the faint scent of shower gel on him, Willow's ears turned red all of a sudden, she quickly lowered her head to eat the pepper pot. As she ate it, she took out her phone and opened Facebook.
The message Elizabeth sent her early in the morning popped up. [Willow, why aren't you at work? I have something important to discuss with you.]
[Are you coming in today? Taking a day off?]
They were messages sent when she had just woken up after 9 o'clock.
She tapped on the screen with one hand. [Yes, I'm not going to the office today. Feeling unwell due to menstrual cramps.] She could only come up with an excuse.
Elizabeth’s reply came instantly. [Rest well, we'll talk when you're back.]
Seeing Elizabeth's response, Willow thought it wasn't anything important, so she didn't dwell on it. Turning her head to sneak a glance at the living room, Mitchell was still in front of the TV, and there was a neatly folded thin blanket on the sofa.
‘So did he sleep on the sofa last night? Why though? We had always slept together before...’ She was puzzled. ‘Could it be that I did something excessive last night, making him unwilling to share a bed with me? But I only remembered I kissed his collarbone. At that moment, I just felt it was alluring and sexy, even more beautiful than that of women. Fueled by alcohol, I acted impulsively. Mitchell was right, I should drink less in the future.’
Willow finished the pepper pot reluctantly, put the dishes in the dishwasher, and walked over slowly. "Mitchell, I'm done." Her voice was very soft.
Mitchell's gaze shifted from the TV to her, but he hadn't really been paying attention, wondering why she took so long to finish the pepper pot. Was it not to her liking?
He had followed a tutorial step by step in the morning, and after it was done, he had a bowl himself, and it tasted fine.
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