CHAPTER 88: CHAPTER 88: MUDDY MESS EVERYWHERE

Jean had to exert force to push him towards the inside of the sofa, and in the blink of an eye, his tall figure completely occupied the entire sofa.

"Mm..." Justin Holden let out an uncomfortable groan, his cheeks flushed, and all the hot breath he exhaled spilled onto Jean Ellison’s wrist.

Her actions paused, and she couldn’t help but study his face intently.

Justin’s eyebrows were tightly knitted, and his thick, slightly drooping eyelashes gently trembled, giving off a sense of aloof coldness.

His eyes remained shut, and even the tip of his tall nose showed a drunken flush.

The thin lips that were always tightly pressed into a line were now slightly parted, the color a vivid red, resembling a blooming red camellia.

"Why did you drink?"

Jean mumbled softly in complaint, seeing his discomfort, and reached out to loosen his tie.

Justin used to not drink alcohol at all, not even a drop, only tea and coffee.

He once said that alcohol clouds one’s mind.

Justin was drunk to such an extent that he couldn’t take a bath.

Jean planned to first help him out of his outerwear, give him a simple wash, and then drag him to bed to sleep.

She reached out her hand and took off his suit jacket, and a small item slipped out from the pocket.

Jean glanced down and was immediately stunned in place.

It was a square, thin film product meant for men...

Jean only felt her chest tighten, her throat constricting, almost unable to breathe.

Since he drank with a woman, why bother Samuel Pryce to send him home, couldn’t he just stay out for the night.

She clenched her palm tightly, and when she released it, deep nail marks were imprinted on her palm.

She took a deep breath; the two of them were no longer related. She wasn’t his girlfriend, whatever dalliances Justin had outside, what did it have to do with her?

Jean picked up the condom and directly tossed it into the waste bin, turning around to leave.

She had no intention of dragging him to bed, much less helping him wash.

Being left on the sofa for a while, the man with his eyes tightly shut, the wind grazing his profile, he raised a hand to rub his temples and became slightly more sober.

He opened his eyes slightly, and in his blurred vision, he saw the thing in the trash can, the condom Jean just threw away.

Upon realizing what it truly was, his whole body suddenly stiffened, his face became somber, and a towering fury surged instantly in his heart.

She had a man outside.

Moreover, she brought that wild man home while he was away.

Jean couldn’t really ignore him; with him lying as he was on the sofa all night, he would catch a cold.

If he got sick, it would still trouble her; Jesse had a weak constitution and would get infected.

Jean fetched a basin of water, brought it to the living room, and the man with his eyes tightly shut seemed asleep.

She wrung out the towel, warm steam starting to diffuse.

She avoided his scorching gaze, focusing on his bare chest, carefully wiping with the towel over his collarbone, the creases of his chest muscles, then his firm abdomen.

Droplets of water trickled along the lines of his muscles, vanishing at the waistband.

Justin let out a muffled sigh from deep in his throat, whether from comfort or something else.

His gaze locked tightly on her, watching her trembling eyelashes and deliberately pressed lips.

Just as she slightly rose, thinking to rinse the towel again, her wrist was gripped.

In a spinning moment, she was forcefully dragged down, trapped in the narrow space between the sofa and his body.

A faint scent of alcohol mixed with his unique warmth enveloped her completely.

Jean exclaimed in surprise, struggling to push him away, but was unable to move an inch.

He hovered over her, his eyes previously hazy now astonishingly sharp, filled with suppressed anger and something deeper.

He pinched her chin, forcing her to raise her face.

"Why?" His voice was hoarse, infused with steaming breath, "Why bring another man home? And deliberately let me see...what’s in the trash can?"

Jean paused, instantly understanding his misunderstanding.

Being questioned in such a manner, grievance and fury surged in her as well.

"Look carefully!"

She pressed against his chest, trying to create some distance, her voice trembling.

"That fell out of your coat pocket, it’s yours."

Justin’s actions halted, furrowing his brows slightly, a hint of bewilderment in his eyes.

He seemed to quickly recall, his body still pressing against her, but the force relaxed slightly.

The silence spread in the heated air for a few seconds.

Suddenly, he seemed to lose all strength, heavily collapsing onto her, burying his head in her neck. His burning cheeks pressed against her sensitive skin, and the heat of his breath made her shiver.

"Mm..." he let out a vague nasal sound. He sounded even more like a drunkard than before, his arms still encircling her, "My head’s spinning... I can’t stand up."

He nuzzled her neck, his voice muffled and carrying a playfully demanding tone.

"Then please... continue wiping me down."

Jean froze, the stiff bristle of his hair and scorching breath on her neck, his heavy male body pressing down on her,

every inch of heat seeping through her cotton pajamas.

His earlier questioning and his current petulance formed a stark contrast, leaving her at a loss for how to react.

He seemed truly lost to drunkenness again, unconsciously seeking a more comfortable position on her, squeezing her tighter with his arms.

Jean rinsed the towel, wrung it dry, and knelt beside the sofa.

She reached out to unbutton Justin Holden’s shirt, one button, then another...

The bronze chest gradually revealed itself, the solid muscle lines slightly heaving with his breathing.

She clenched the towel in her hand, unsure of what to do next.

He suddenly moved, his scalding palm covering the back of her hand resting on his waist.

"Continue..." his voice was hoarse, filled with a drunken slur.

Jean wanted to withdraw her hand, but he pressed it down more firmly.

His fingertips unconsciously rubbed against her skin, sending a shiver through her.

"Justin, let go," she tried to stay calm.

Her voice was soft, calling his name like an aphrodisiac.

He grew bolder, guiding her hand downwards, pressing it against his taut abdomen.

The heat there was frighteningly intense.

"Help you..." he half-opened his eyes, his eyelashes damp, and the corners of his eyes tinged red, "Aren’t you going to undress me?"

Jean held her breath.

His usually stern face was astonishingly alluring at that moment, his lips glossy and enticing, like a spirit designed to seduce.

She abruptly yanked her hand away, splashing water everywhere.

He chuckled low, his chest vibrating with laughter.

"What are you afraid of?" He lazily propped himself up, his shirt completely open, the contours of his abs distinct, "It’s not like you haven’t seen it before."

If she hadn’t seen a man’s body, then how did Jesse come about?

Jean grabbed his nightshirt to put it on him, but he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her waist, burying his hot face into her neck.

"Jean..." his hot breath sprayed on her sensitive skin, "You’re so cool to the touch."

He deliberately brushed his lips against her collarbone, feeling her tense instantly.

A triumphant smile hid in the corners of his eyes as his hand slowly caressed her back.

"Justin!" Her voice trembled.

"Hmm?" He lifted his head, his eyes hazy yet dangerous, his fingers precisely stroking the hollow of her spine, "I’m here."

He suddenly flipped her onto the corner of the sofa, his searing body enveloping her.

The scent of alcohol combined with his unique aroma filled the air.

"Actually, I..." he whispered in her ear, his breath heavy, "amn’t too drunk to move."

His hand slipped under her shirt, his palm scorching.

Jean gasped, pinned by the raw desire in his eyes.

"Then earlier you..."

"I was faking it," he chuckled, biting off her first button, "How else could I trick you?"

His kiss descended, carrying the scent of alcohol and irresistible force.

Jean’s resisting hands were pinned above her head, their fingers intertwined.

"Shh..." he licked her lips, his voice blurred, "The stuff in the trash bin isn’t mine."

She was stunned.

He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his scorching tongue prying open her teeth.

The basin of water overturned, splashing everywhere.

No one cared.