Fortunate to Have You This Lifetime

Chapter 225: Chapter 225: He Can’t Possibly Be

Translator: 549690339 |

A flash of surprise flickered in Alexander Summer’s eyes.

“Why did you suddenly bring her up?”

“I can’t sleep, just chatting casually.” Purple Summers replied nonchalantly.

Upon hearing this, Alexander chuckled with a slight hint of evil energy, “Can’t sleep? We can do something else…”

“Can’t you be more serious?” Purple reached to pinch his waist under the blanket, gnashing her teeth: “I really want to put your head under Niagara Falls to wash away all the filthy things inside!”

She was still sick and had little strength in her hands; pinching Alexander’s waist was nothing more than tickling him.

Alexander laughed and held her hand, deliberately moving it lower: “The position is not quite right; it should be a little lower.”

Purple Summers withdrew her hand in shock, her ears burning red.

So bad! How could he be so bad!

Purple Summers lost interest in probing further, turned her back on Alexander, and ignored him.

But Alexander hugged her from behind and asked with amusement in his tone: “Are you angry again, you delicate thing?”

“You’re too bad! I don’t want to talk to you!” Purple’s head was buried in the blanket, and her voice was filled with indignation.

Alexander, holding her, asked: “What did I do that was so bad?”

Purple Summers firmly ignored him, burying herself in the blanket, pretending to be dead.

Nevertheless, Alexander had ways to deal with her; he held her around the waist, his callused palm sneaking into her pajamas. He playfully nibbled on her earlobe and breathed out hot air that infiltrated her ears, making it unbearable for Purple.

Purple tried to escape, but there was no place to hide. She was trapped. “Alexander Summers!” She turned her face angrily, “Will you let me sleep?!” He was the one who wanted her to rest, and now he was the one disturbing her! “Purple, once you’re better, can we do it like last time?” Alexander’s voice was low and hoarse as he held her even tighter.

Purple’s heart skipped a beat.

She knew what Alexander was referring to – last time… when she used her hand to help him…

Her heart felt like the cold water of a river in late autumn that had flooded after the tide had passed.

“…Alexander, what do you really think of me?”

As Purple Summers asked this, she did not sound angry, but rather like she was sighing, even with a hint of melancholy.

“My woman,” Alexander kissed her neck, his breath heavy, “My treasure…” Purple’s heart remained still; such sweet nothings were not the answer she sought. As she lay quietly in Alexander’s arms, she examined their twisted relationship for the first time.

At first, he was an unscrupulous bully, teasing her with frivolous advances and repeatedly crossing the line between siblings, causing embarrassment and anger for any woman.

Then, he was a brutal devil, monitoring, stalking, humiliating, and restricting her freedom, putting her in danger and causing immense pain.

…Yet, he was also a gentle lover; he would send her lavishly extravagant gifts, cook for her, carry her down the mountain, and say thrilling words that struck her heart with wonder when she carefully savored them. Slowly seducing… imprisoning her.

Unable to break free or escape, Purple Summers had experienced the pain of helplessness and could not help but feel hatred, but as to the extent of her hatred, she was uncertain…

What was she thinking? Why would she suspect that Alexander was the one collecting bodies for her?…Was it because, subconsciously, she was looking for an excuse to accept him without hesitation?

Such a psychological transformation frightened Purple Summers.

She closed her eyes and warned herself: It couldn’t be him.

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