Soft and cute

Watching the lantern, Grace found herself lost in thought. Her true wish wasn't inscribed on it—a genuine reunion of a real family. Deep down, she knew it would never come true, so she held no expectations.

John Amster observed Grace Quinn as she gazed at the lantern, her small face radiating piety and earnestness. The warm breeze lifted the hem of her loose chiffon shirt, revealing a glimpse of her slender, fair waist. Despite her innocent demeanor, she possessed a devilish figure that was hard for any man to resist.

Feeling the intensity of his gaze, Grace felt a wave of pressure. This clandestine relationship was a path to ruin, and she wanted to end it as soon as possible. Turning around, the evening breeze tousled her hair, and the soft glow of the streetlamp illuminated her face. With a tilt of her head and a smile, she looked angelic.

"Mr. Amster, does the promise from last night still stand?"

"Yes."

John Amster reached out and pulled her into his arms. Grace swayed, then melted into his embrace. Barefoot and standing at 168 cm, she could only reach his neck, her small face pressed against his chest. Amid the evening breeze and the sound of birdsong, she felt the steady rhythm of his powerful heartbeat.

His fingertips caressed her tender face. "So, what's your plan to make tonight unforgettable?"

He was always the one to take the initiative, seemingly wanting her to be more proactive. As memories of their previous encounters flashed through her mind, a blush crept from her cheeks to her ears. She bit her lip, contemplating her response.

Suddenly, he pinched her waist. "What happened to that enticing way you clung to me in bed? Why do you turn into a different person outside of it? You blush at just the mention of it."

Grace grasped his shirt and replied softly, "What's the rush? You'll find out tonight."

Her breath brushed against his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt, darkening his gaze. He bent down, effortlessly lifting her, his fingers hooking her high-heeled shoes as he did. Instinctively, Grace tightened her grip around his neck.

As he adjusted his hold, the sudden weightlessness made her dig her fingers into him, releasing a surprised, "Ah! Mr. Amster..."

Though it was just a sound of surprise, it came out incredibly alluring. John Amster nearly lost his balance, cursing under his breath, "Damn it."

Grace felt a twinge of embarrassment. She was always on guard around men, and when touched without permission, she tensed up like a startled rabbit. John noticed her defensiveness and said firmly, "Don't call out like that in public."

Grace could only stay silent. It was thanks to her mother that she had been trained to be both beautiful and charming since childhood. Now, she had a soft, cute appearance combined with a seductive voice—qualities that had become second nature.

As they moved further away, Grace gently tugged at his collar. "Aren't we going back?"

"I promised to take you for a walk to help you digest your food."

"But right now, it seems like you're the one getting the exercise. Why not put me down so I can walk a few steps?"

"The path ahead is cobbled. Can you manage it?" He glanced at her delicate feet, adorned with bright red nail polish. Noticing his gaze, she instinctively curled her toes.

"Fussy."

He carried her in a wide circle, displaying impressive strength. Despite the effort, he remained calm and collected, not a drop of sweat visible on his brow.

"Aren't you tired?"

John replied nonchalantly, "How heavy can a cat that only eats grass be?"

When they stepped into the elevator, Grace tried to squirm free, her face flushed with indignation. "Who said I'm a cat?"

Raising an eyebrow, he countered, "Who was it that left so many red marks on my back the first time?"

As the elevator doors opened, Grace jumped onto the soft carpet, putting some distance between them. Hands on her hips, she scolded him like a child. "Even if I were a cat, cats don't eat vegetables."

He stepped out, a triumphant smile on his lips. "So, you want to eat meat?"

He twisted her words, trapping her in a verbal snare. Whether she said yes or no, she'd fall into a trap. Grace pursed her lips, opting for silence.

John crouched down to meet her gaze, their faces inches apart. She could feel his warm breath, carrying a hint of wine. Taking a step back, she tried to escape the charged atmosphere.

"Is that the bathroom over there?"

"Yes. Since it's your first time here, I didn't prepare a bathrobe. You can use mine."

Noticing her frown, John added, "It's new. I haven't used it."

Grace quickly entered the bathroom. It was nearly as big as her apartment, featuring a double-sink vanity that exuded elegance and luxury. The faint aroma of essential oils filled the air, and there was a dry-wet separation for the shower and toilet.

In front of the expansive floor-to-ceiling window, she marveled at the bathtub—larger than her bed. The view was breathtaking, overlooking a lotus pond lit beautifully at night. The water was milky and warm, scattered with rose petals.

On a nearby shelf lay an eye mask, a facial mask, scented candles, and a half-glass of red wine. Everything was perfectly arranged.

Suddenly, she understood why he had carried her around for that extra circle—he'd been preparing a bubble bath for her.

As the enchanting night enveloped her, Grace slowly undressed in front of the pristine window. Submerging herself in the milky water felt like being wrapped in John's caress, the warmth enveloping her completely. The gentle water caressed her skin, tinting it a rosy pink, making her breathing increasingly unsteady in the tranquil night...