A Night of Desire

Chapter 248 - 245: I Hand-Washed It

Without turning around or pausing what he was doing, Seth Quinn replied, "That’s okay. Just go sit in the dining room."

Clara Grant pressed her lips together. She looked like she wanted to say something, but in the end, she said nothing and turned to go to the dining room.

She had just sat down when Seth Quinn came in carrying two bowls of porridge. He set one in front of her and the other across the table, then walked around and sat down opposite her.

Clara Grant stared at the bowl for a good while. ’Is this... millet porridge or steamed millet rice? It’s a little too thick, isn’t it?’

"What? Don’t you like it?" Seth Quinn knew he hadn’t gotten the proportions right; he had used too much millet. But he figured that for his first attempt, getting the porridge to this state was already pretty good.

Despite this, he still watched Clara Grant, a hint of nervousness in his gaze.

Clara Grant blinked and looked up. "I like it. It looks... like it should taste really good."

With that, she picked up her spoon, scooped up some of the incredibly thick porridge, blew on it, and put it in her mouth.

’It tastes... well, at least it still tastes like millet porridge.’

"Is it good?" Seth Quinn’s voice was filled with an unconcealable sense of anticipation.

"It’s delicious," Clara Grant nodded, offering her affirmation generously.

Hearing her say it was delicious, Seth Quinn visibly relaxed. He picked up his spoon and scooped up a mouthful, but then he looked at her and said, "These hands are meant for signing billion-dollar deals, and now they’ve stooped to make you porridge. You should feel very honored."

Clara Grant had assumed he was just joking to lighten the mood, but when she looked up and saw his dead-serious expression, she nearly choked on the porridge she had just put in her mouth.

"That’s right. If word got out that the man all the women in Novaria are fawning over personally cooked porridge for me, I’d truly become the object of every woman’s envy, jealousy, and hate."

She managed to swallow the porridge, her tone laced with sarcasm as she pursed her lips.

Despite her scorn, a faint sweetness seemed to well up from deep within her heart.

The realization made Clara Grant freeze for a moment. ’Just yesterday, they had argued. And just a little while ago, she had called their marriage a joke.’

’And now, just because he made her some porridge, she was casting all that aside and feeling happy?’

Clara Grant realized she had been acting more and more strangely lately, especially when it came to Seth Quinn. She was becoming indecisive, anxious, and now she was feeling happy this easily?!

’Clara, he just made some porridge. Maybe he wanted to eat it himself and just claimed he made it for you.’

’You can’t trust a man’s word; otherwise, pigs would fly!’

Just as she was silently criticizing herself, Seth Quinn suddenly piped up, "Oh, right. After I helped you bathe and change yesterday, I tossed your clothes in the washing machine. Oh, but don’t worry, I didn’t wash your underwear with them."

The moment she heard him say he had helped her bathe and change, Clara Grant’s face couldn’t help but flush bright red. She had just tried to convince herself to let him look at her body if he wanted to—after all, they had done far more intimate things.

But hearing him say it out loud—that he had bathed her—she still felt so mortified she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

’It seemed she was still thin-skinned, after all.’

But, thank goodness, he said he hadn’t washed her underwear. Clara Grant felt she could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

But before she could fully catch her breath, Seth Quinn added nonchalantly, "I washed them by hand."

"COUGH, COUGH, COUGH..." Clara Grant finally couldn’t take it anymore and choked violently on her own saliva.