Until he retracted his arm holding the shampoo, Suzanne remained stiffly standing, her gaze on the shampoo in his hand. All words were based on her instinct: "Yes, this one..."
Mason King's dark eyes stared at her intently. He saw her trying hard to remain calm, but her ears were slowly turning red without realizing it. A teasing tone seeped into his indifferent voice, barely perceptible: "How much do you need?"
Suzanne was surprised: "Don't tell me you don't know how to use shampoo?"
Mason's voice remained calm: "Is your hair the same amount as mine?"
Suzanne finally raised her gaze, which she had been trying hard to avoid. She looked at the man's neatly trimmed, ink-black hair and couldn't help but sweep her eyes over his. As soon as they made eye contact, she quickly looked away, her gaze fixed straight ahead—on the cloth in front of his chest.