CHAPTER 60: CHAPTER 60: YOU CAN TOUCH ME HOWEVER YOU LIKE

Victoria Monroe’s face turned red, and she quickly jumped down.

In her haste, she almost bumped her head against the car door. Rhys Hawthorne leaned over and steadied her, "Take it easy, Ms. Monroe, don’t fall."

As he leaned in, the scent of cool pine and sandalwood from him brushed past Victoria’s nose, inexplicably calming her.

Perhaps sensing her tense nerves, his usually unsmiling lips curved slightly, "Where’s that spirit of yours when you forced me to eat pickled garlic as a child? Why are you so nervous seeing me now?"

Mentioning their childhood seemed to dissipate the indescribable ambiguity between them.

Victoria vaguely recalled a bit of it too, back then her family was poor, especially in the winter when fresh vegetables were scarce.

Typically, her grandmother would prepare pickled vegetables in the fall, including soaked vegetables and garlic.

Rhys Hawthorne, a high-and-mighty young master, was used to eating either caviar or Alba white truffles at home.

The greatest hardship he had suffered was at five years old, being forced by Victoria to eat pickled garlic.

He couldn’t refuse; the little girl would smack him lightly on the head and tell him to respect the effort it took to make a meal and not waste any food.

Victoria was easily distracted by him, a hint of a smile appearing on her face.

"Yes, I remember you were almost crying from my hit at the time."

"It wasn’t your hit that made me cry, it was the spicy and salty garlic that did. Not eating wasn’t an option."

Victoria stared directly at his face with her big eyes, "Actually, you’re not quite the same as you were then. Back then you had a bit of baby fat, were pale and soft, squatting beside the trash can. I was amazed, wondering how there could be such a beautiful little kid, like a doll in a shop window."

She found it hard to express with words the amazement she felt at that moment. He wore clothes of good quality, his face was clean, and even though he was dusted with snow, he didn’t seem disheveled at all, a world apart from the destitute slum backdrop.

Rhys locked eyes with her, his Adam’s apple subtly moved, "And now? What’s different?"

"This face is still perfect, but it’s not as soft and cute as before. Back then I could freely pinch your cheeks. Now your dark eyes looking at me make me feel as if I’m desecrating a deity by gazing too long."

Besides that sacred feeling, there was a natural nobility, deterring anyone from approaching.

"Hah." He chuckled softly, his voice low and magnetic, his chest rising gently. Beneath his open collar, his sharply defined Adam’s apple stood out more sensually.

"So the biggest difference from the past is that you can’t touch my face anymore?"

"Of course, you are..."

Before Victoria could finish her sentence, the man abruptly grasped her wrist. Before she could react, he had already pressed her little hand against his face.

Boom!

Victoria’s mind went completely blank.

The frost in Rhys’s eyes melted away, leaving only a soft and gentle aura of spring and all things rejuvenated, "Now, you can touch as you like."

Victoria’s heart raced rapidly. Each time she found a good reason for Rhys’s actions, he would personally overturn it, steering her toward other thoughts.

Rhys even felt her palm sweating profusely from nervousness, her unease and fear written all over her face.

His voice was soft, "I told you, you’re my lifesaver, you can do whatever you want with me."

The man loosened his tie and pressed his face into Victoria’s hand, his voice seductively devilish, "So, do you want to do something to me?"