Mr. Ford Is Jealous novel Chapter 988

Chapter 988

Weston made Stella stand up. 

She glanced at her potted plants destroyed by the man who fell in earlier and became somewhat distressed. 

“The soil is full of broken glass...” she grumbled. 

“Let others deal with it.” 

Weston‘s eyebrows twitched when he saw that she was about to clean up the soil with her bare hands. With a much sterner voice, he told her, “Stop. You‘ll hurt your hands.” 

He forbade her from doing anything else and pulled her away. 

“Did you get hurt just now?” 

“No,” she shook her head. “I didn‘t.” 

She then paused to think before asking, “Does your mom have a heart disease?” 

“Yeah,” he answered briefly, casting his eyes down at her. “She‘s had it for many years. 

“We‘ll move to another room,” he told her as he led her to the bathroom. “Someone will come and move our stuff later. Right now, you should wash all the dirt off your paws.” 

Weston was a notorious neat freak. In fact, he was almost at his limit when he had to suppress his revulsion while holding her dirty hands. 

“These aren‘t paws,” Stella muttered with a pout. “These are my hands...” 

He chuckled and placed her hands beneath the faucet before washing them meticulously. The metal wash basin was lavish, and the gray countertop was spotless. This choice of color gave the room a chic atmosphere while not looking too cold and impersonal . Stella‘s hands were milky white, making her skin look as delicate as jade. The peach fuzz on the back of her hand and the flush of pink on the exposed fleshy parts of her fingers starkly contrasted against the dark gray backdrop, making her skin look exceptionally translucent and exquisite. 

“Stella...” Weston stood behind her, almost encircling her within his arms. His lips were right next to her ear when he softly murmured in a hoarse voice, “How is it so fair, hmm?” 

He was referring to her skin. 

through them as they touched. He was only washing her hands, yet he managed to arouse an ardently erotic sensation inside her. Her knees were now weak. She could only lean back against his chest and moaned, “Weston...” 

Her voice was sultry and smooth as silk as his name lingered on her lips for much longer than usual. 

Weston knew that she was at her limits. If he kept on teasing her, her eyes would redden, and she wouldn‘t be able to handle it. 

“We‘re done,” he said. “Your hands are clean now.” 

He slowly let go of her and grabbed a paper towel to wipe her hands dry. 

“Your fingernails are getting quite long,” he commented. “Isn‘t it time to trim them?” 

He always paid extraordinary attention to her body. Nothing, not even the tiniest detail, could escape his notice. 

“They are quite long indeed,” she replied as she glanced at them, “but they‘re not so long that they get in the way.”