Rosie swallowed hard, was he giving her a man-eating glare?
The dawn was gradually breaking, spring breeze brushed the windows, the girl's shoulder strap was loose, her long hair messy, inexplicably kneeling on the bed, looking at Charles Anderson mournfully.
The aura he lay projecting was a full two meters long, it was truly astonishing.
Obviously, it was his rudeness first, yet the atmosphere made her feel like she was in the wrong.
The man spread his large palm, what did he mean?
The girl's eyes twirled, she looked at the man's stern face and then at his open palm, tilting her head in confusion, was he asking for a puppy to extend its paw?
Rosie, frightened by a sharp glance, quickly placed her hand on his, estimating that Charles must be asking: who did that hand slap?
"I know I'm wrong, husband, please don't break my hand..." the girl pouted, speaking tearfully as beads of tears fell, "It's a reflex, I didn't mean it~~~ Waaaa~~~ ahhhh~~~"
