Chapter 268: We’ll Do It Again at Home

Chapter 268: Chapter 268: We’ll Do It Again at Home

The car pulled up in front of a restaurant. Evan Ford parked, unbuckled his seatbelt first, and got out.

He wanted to be a gentleman and open the car door for Anne.

Before he could make a move, the woman had already pushed the door open herself and gotten out.

She walked to his side, glanced up at the restaurant’s sign, and said excitedly, "I heard the food here is amazing."

"Yeah."

He turned and walked into the restaurant.

The moment he entered, a wave of warm air washed over him.

Evan Ford took off his overcoat as he walked, draping it over his arm. He glanced back at Anne, and seeing her following him, he strode toward the second floor.

This wasn’t his first time here; he knew the layout well.

But just as he stepped onto the staircase and took a few steps, a loud SMACK echoed from behind him. He’d just been slapped on the ass.

A hard one.

His mind went completely blank. The momentum of the slap made him stumble forward.

The next second, he froze, petrified on the stairs.

Seeing him completely frozen, Anne looked down, rubbing her hand and berating herself in frustration. ’Damn this hand!’

’Looking was one thing.’

’They haven’t even gotten started yet.’

’How could I just go and touch it!’

Evan Ford heard the muttering behind him and slowly turned his stiff neck to look at Anne.

Their eyes met. Anne smacked her right hand twice with her left. "Oh my god, my hand is cramping up for no reason!"

After saying that, she gave him an awkward smile. "Mr. Ford, I’m so sorry. I accidentally... hit your distinguished posterior just now."

Evan Ford: "..."

’Some accident!’

’She clearly did it on purpose.’

’Every time they met, she’d sneak glances at his ass.’

’Does this girl have some kind of fetish, or what?’

Seeing her embarrassed expression, he pursed his lips, took her right hand, and noticed her palm was red from the slap. He rubbed it gently and asked in a low voice, "Does it hurt?"

She shook her head.

"After dinner, you can hit it again at home."

"?"

A RUMBLE went through Anne’s mind. She was thrilled and excited.

’Hit it again at home?’

’Does that mean what I think it means?’

Evan Ford didn’t let go of her hand. Since he’d taken the opportunity to hold it, he simply continued leading her upstairs.

Once they were in the private room, a waiter quickly came to take their order.

Anne was completely distracted. Her face was bright red as she kneaded the palm of her right hand, savoring the memory of that springy sensation.

’My palm is so itchy.’

’I want to hit it a few more times...’

"Order," Evan Ford reminded her, seeing she was lost in thought.

She let out an "Oh," quickly grabbed the menu, and randomly ordered two dishes.

Evan Ford ordered the restaurant’s signature dishes. Afterward, while waiting for the food to arrive, Anne cautiously broke the silence. "Mr. Ford."

"Hm?"

"Do you want to come home with me tonight?"

"Can I?"

"Then... would you be willing to lie on the bed and let me hit you?"

Evan Ford’s face instantly felt like it was on fire, all the blood in his body rushing to his head.

On the stairs, the woman’s unexpected slap seemed to have stimulated a sensitive nerve. An unprecedented tingling numbness had surged up from the base of his spine.

Now, that feeling was coming back.

He thought he finally understood why he hadn’t reacted to or felt anything for most women over the years.

Those women, no matter how beautiful, weren’t rough enough. Every single one of them was either fawning over him or treating him with the utmost reverence.

He didn’t need a well-behaved girl, and certainly not a wife for a marriage of convenience arranged through matchmaking. He needed a woman who could give him a sensory thrill.

"I can."

As he said those two words, Anne’s face turned red, too—even redder than his.

The atmosphere grew even more charged.

Suddenly, Anne suggested, "How about we have the waiter pack up the food and we eat at home?"

"An excellent suggestion."

Hearing this, Anne got up, went out, and stopped the waiter who had taken their order. "Please pack up all the food for our table."

"Of course."

Returning to the private room, Anne poured herself a cup of hot tea.

She sat upright in her chair, holding the warm cup with both hands, her gaze occasionally drifting to Evan Ford across from her.

The blush on the man’s face hadn’t faded yet. He avoided her gaze several times, as if deeply embarrassed.

"Mr. Ford."

"Hm?"

"On the way back, should we buy anything? Handcuffs or something..."

Evan Ford’s mind was BUZZING.

"Next time. I’ll bring things next time. Today... we can use a tie for now, just to make do."

"Oh, okay."

...

「On the other side.」

Alaric Blackwood picked up Sophie Shaw, but instead of taking her straight home, he drove to a cat shelter.

He took her hand, got out of the car, and led her inside.

The soft meows of kittens immediately filled their ears.

Sophie Shaw’s eyes lit up, and she walked toward the cats in their cages.

"Pick whichever one you like, and we’ll take it home."

Alaric Blackwood followed behind her, watching her with a smile.

"Can we really? Aren’t you worried about the cat shedding?"

Alaric Blackwood shook his head.

He’d asked other pet owners. He heard that cats only shed twice a year—for six months at a time. For a neat freak like him, if he couldn’t handle the shedding, he could consider a hairless cat, though they were a bit expensive.

While Sophie was overwhelmed by the choices, he spotted a Sphynx cat. It was completely hairless, with pink, fleshy skin, and looked wrinkly. It was ugly-cute.

He led Sophie over and pointed through the glass cage. "What about this one?"

Sophie stared at the Sphynx and let out a PFFT of laughter. "It’s a little ugly."

"Its advantage is that it doesn’t shed."

"Maybe some people like them, but I like fluffy cats."

With that, Sophie went back to looking and finally chose a four-month-old, long-haired orange Maine Coon.

Alaric Blackwood gave a wry smile. While Sophie picked out cat supplies and food, he went to the counter and asked the young man there, "Does that cat shed a lot?"

The young man waved his hand and told a bald-faced lie. "Doesn’t shed. It doesn’t shed at all. You can take it home without worry. And if it does shed, you can come back to me. I have plenty of hairball control products for you to choose from."

"..."

"How about you take a tube of hairball paste now?"

Alaric Blackwood was a bit speechless. "I want the best one."

"The most expensive one? You got it! No problem!"

"..."

Once Sophie had finished picking out cat food, litter, and other supplies, Alaric Blackwood carried everything to the car and put it in the trunk.

Sophie didn’t even sit in the passenger seat. She sat in the back with the cat, holding it in her arms and stroking its head the whole way.

The trip home was thirty minutes, and in that short time, Sophie’s overcoat was already covered in cat hair.

When they got home, Sophie held the cat, unable to put it down. "What should we name the kitten?"

Alaric Blackwood smiled. "You’re the one who fell for the kitty, you name it."

Sophie sat down on the sofa with the cat and tilted her head, thinking. "How about Piggy?"

"Ask the cat if it agrees."

As he spoke, he walked over to Sophie and helped her take off her overcoat.

After cleaning the cat hair off the coat, he hung it on the coat rack. When he turned back, he saw Sophie looking at the cat in her arms with a serious expression, asking, "How about I name you Piggy?"

The cat looked at her without reacting.

"You don’t like it?"

"Then let’s try another one. How about... Furball?"

The cat still didn’t react.

Sophie tried several other names. It wasn’t until she casually called out "Princess" that the Maine Coon in her arms let out a "Meow."