Before she could finish speaking, Andrew removed the face mask from her face.
After removing the face mask, he leaned in for a kiss.
“Andrew, be honest with me,” Isabella protested, kicking her slender legs against his chest and whimpering.
But evidently, there was a huge difference in strength between men and women. Her resistance was nothing more than a playful act to him, which added some excitement.
She struggled weakly, only able to plead, “Stop, please, I’m tired…”
She had worked all day, and she was afraid that if this man continued to bother her at night, she might not see the sunrise tomorrow. It would be one thing to die from overwork, but dying in bed was too embarrassing.
“If you’re tired, just rest quietly. I can manage on my own; I don’t need your cooperation,” he murmured in a magnetic, husky voice, his lips continuously pressing against her soft and fragrant lips.
She was most afraid of hearing his voice in bed. His voice was too pleasant, low and deep, like a cello. His gentle murmurs were like magic, always tempting her into joining him.
She was wearing only a loose robe, which he swiftly tugged open, letting it slip off her shoulders. Her soft arms wound around his neck slowly, as she was about to surrender. Suddenly, she felt discomfort in her body.
“Stop, Andrew, stop,” she called out in time.
“What’s wrong?” he asked in a suppressed tone, his heated gaze seemingly devouring her.
“Um, my period has come,” Isabella said, pushing him away and hurrying into the bathroom.
When she emerged from the bathroom, she had changed into a conservative set of nightwear. Her long hair hung loose, and her innocent eyes glanced at Andrew.
He sat on the bed, smoking with a grim expression.
“It came at just the right time,” he said, pinching the cigarette, sounding resigned.
She approached him, smiling, and wrapped her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his cheek as a consolation.
“How about sleeping in the guest room tonight?”
Was she asking him to leave? Andrew raised an eyebrow, displeased. “We can sleep together without doing anything.”
“Okay, then straighten out the bedsheets before sleeping,” Isabella said, her eyes and brows curved, smiling like a triumphant fox.
He lifted the covers and noticed a little red stain.
Isabella, delicate and refined, clearly had no experience in these matters. Andrew extinguished the cigarette between his fingers, reluctantly tore off the sheet, and threw it into the bathroom sink.
As he rubbed the bloodstain on the sink, she leaned against the bathroom door, grinning mischievously, watching him like a little foreman.
“Anything else?” he asked, looking at the girl’s figure in the mirror.
“Oh, just one more little thing,” Isabella grinned obsequiously.
“I hope you won’t make any more unreasonable demands,” he said, his deep gaze slightly narrowed, looking down at the crumpled sheet in his hand.
“Andrew, I’ve run out of sanitary pads. Could you buy me a pack?” she said in a low voice.
Andrew: “…”
He truly doubted if he had misheard. This girl was asking him, a man, to buy sanitary pads!
With a stern face, Andrew checked out at the supermarket, then carried a bag of sanitary pads home, thinking all the while: he must owe this little girl something from his past life.
There definitely wouldn’t be any nighttime activities that evening. The only benefit was being able to hold her while sleeping. Smelling her fragrance but unable to move, that night, Andrew felt truly stifled.
The following morning,
Isabella woke up to find herself sleeping in his embrace. Andrew lay there calmly, eyes closed, his facial features deep and defined.
She absentmindedly reached out and playfully poked his straight nose a few times, successfully waking him up.
“Awake?” His thick eyelashes blinked a few times, and the drowsiness in his eyes vanished quickly. He lowered his head slightly and naturally kissed her forehead affectionately, his voice carrying a hint of hoarseness.
“Yeah, I have to report to the set in the morning and meet with the music director in the afternoon,” she said as she sat up in bed, picked up her phone, and checked the time.
It wasn’t early anymore; continuing to laze in bed would definitely make her late.
Andrew got up too, lovingly reaching out to ruffle her hair; this little girl seemed busier than him.
“Andrew, bring me a set of clothes,” Isabella sat on the bed, her feet peeking out from under the blanket, her small white feet kicking Andrew.
She ordered him around as if it were the most natural thing to do.
Andrew always indulged and spoiled his mate, and he was quite patient.
“Which set?” Andrew opened the wardrobe, asking for her opinion.
“Anything will do,” Isabella said casually while gathering her hair, sitting on the edge of the bed.
He took out a white dress, but she vetoed it. “It’s inconvenient to wear a dress for the start at the location; we’ll have to change clothes.”
He hung the dress back in the wardrobe and chose a set of shirt and trousers instead.
She shook her head upon seeing it. “This set doesn’t suit me.”
“…” Andrew thought to himself: if it doesn’t suit her, why buy it? Women’s thinking is indeed unique.
He returned the shirt and trousers, picking a knitted sweater set for her instead.
“I wore this set the day before yesterday,” she said.
Andrew had gone back and forth fetching clothes for her five or six times before Isabella finally felt satisfied, carrying the clothes to the bathroom to freshen up.
Andrew, feeling helpless, realized that her “anything will do” meant at least five or six rounds of trial and error.