After Rebirth, I Accept The Arranged Marriage-Chapter 140: The Crucial Time for Coaxing His Wife
"Let me see." Victor Morgan was already in front of Jessie Sterling as he spoke, holding out his hand.
As if Jessie would ever give Victor her phone. She pouted, a look of defiance on her face. "No! It’s my phone, my rules!"
"You were taking pictures of me. How does that make you ’in charge’?"
Jessie: "I wasn’t taking them secretly."
"Oh, so you were just brazen about it," Victor said.
Jessie: "..."
’Damn it, what is with this man? He’s completely blocked everything I wanted to say!’
When Jessie refused to cooperate, Victor simply bent down to grab the phone from her hand.
Jessie, thinking Victor was genuinely trying to snatch her phone, quickly rolled to the other side of the bed, clutching it for dear life.
Her movement, however, left the side of the bed closest to Victor wide open.
Victor seized the opportunity and climbed onto the bed. His hand landed squarely on the wrist Jessie was using to hold her phone. Kneeling on the mattress, he loomed over her from behind, practically pulling her entire body into his embrace.
His hot breath fanned across the nape of her neck.
While Jessie was trying to "protect her phone with her life," Victor lowered his head and nipped the back of her neck.
Like a lone wolf on the plains finally catching its prey.
The beauty of a bathrobe is that it’s held together by a single belt. With one tug, everything underneath is revealed.
Victor’s target had never been Jessie’s phone. He wouldn’t let a stranger take his picture, of course, but his wife was no stranger. In fact, he wished her phone was filled with photos of him.
When Jessie felt a strong arm snake around her waist, she realized she’d been had by Victor again.
"Victor Morgan!" Jessie snapped, using his full name, clearly annoyed.
But by then, Victor had already tugged open her bathrobe and taken hold of her most sensitive spot, turning her angry shout into something that sounded more like a playful whine.
"Hmm? I’m here," Victor murmured, not forgetting to answer his little wife below as he stoked the flames of her desire.
The moment Jessie opened her mouth, all that came out were broken, breathless moans. Cursing him inwardly, she bit down on Victor’s shoulder and stammered, "You... you said it yourself... tonight... I was just... letting you stay..."
Victor: "Mm-hmm."
"So..."
Before Jessie could finish, Victor cut her off. "But weren’t you the one who initiated this?"
Jessie: "???"
"You used the camera flash to get my attention," Victor whispered, feeling her body grow soft beneath him, as if melting into a pool of water.
Jessie: "!!!"
’This man was clearly talking nonsense!’
But now, whenever she opened her mouth, all that escaped were suggestive, broken sounds. She couldn’t form a single coherent sentence.
Victor had gone two weeks without. Now that he finally had a chance to get close to his wife, he’d probably even be willing to be her lapdog.
Earlier, in the car, he’d already sensed that Jessie wasn’t so resistant to him anymore.
She was supposedly just "letting him stay," but they were a legitimate husband and wife. If word got out that he, Victor Morgan, had been kicked to the sofa by his own wife, what would happen to his reputation?
Jessie was on the verge of tears.
Never underestimate a man who’s been starved for two weeks.
That night, Jessie didn’t feel the cold of the Nordlands at all.
The heating in the room was turned up far too high. By the time Victor pulled her out from under the covers, her entire body was flushed and feverish.
She cried out that she was hot, so Victor carried her to the floor-to-ceiling window.
Outside, heavy snow fell in the sub-zero air. Before her was his scorching chest.
Jessie couldn’t remember the final cleanup very clearly.
The bathroom light was too bright. In Jessie’s mind, the light that night reminded her of a scene she’d once seen in a movie.
Before the morning star had even set, a lone fishing boat drifted on the surface of the sea.
At the bow of the fishing boat hung an outdoor lamp.
With every crash of the waves, the lamp on the bow would sway and rock, its constant motion dazzling and disorienting.
Even in her sleep, Jessie felt as if she were adrift on the ocean.
When she woke, Jessie’s mind was still fuzzy, but she subconsciously snuggled closer to the warmth in the bed.
A second later, however, it hit her.
The source of the warmth wasn’t the bed—it was Victor’s embrace.
Opening her eyes, the first thing Jessie saw was a perfectly sculpted eight-pack, like a bar of chocolate, right in front of her face.
She looked up and saw that Victor had woken up at some point. He was sitting up against the headboard, one arm wrapped around her, the other typing on a laptop propped on his knees.
As Jessie had snuggled closer, Victor had instinctively tightened his arm around her shoulder. It was only when she tried to pull away that his focus finally shifted from his screen to the woman in his arms.
"You’re awake? What would you like to eat?" Victor asked.
Jessie had intended to put up a little resistance, but she had to admit, Victor’s body was just so warm, and...
’Thinking about last night... although I was a bit out of it toward the end, the overall experience was... very nice.’
’When it came to this sort of thing, if she had a good time, she could forgive Victor’s recklessness and "disobedience" for a little while.’
So, Jessie snuggled back into Victor’s embrace.
"Mmm, I’m hungry. I want soup dumplings, soy milk, and fried dough sticks," Jessie said.
Victor: "..."
He wasn’t entirely sure if Jessie genuinely wanted to eat those things, or if she was still upset with him and was just trying to give him a hard time.
Those were common breakfast foods back home, but out here, they were likely impossible to find.
"Alright," Victor said, closing the laptop on his lap.
Jessie had just said it on a whim. She’d been eating Western food for days and was simply getting sick of it.
And she was in no mood to buy ingredients and cook for herself.
But hearing him agree so readily made her look up. "Huh? You’re going to go buy them?"
"I’ll make them," Victor said, standing up and grabbing his phone to make a call.
There was no way to get them ready-made, but the town had a supermarket. The ingredients might not be perfect, but making soup dumplings and fried dough sticks shouldn’t be a major issue.
This was a critical moment for winning over his wife, and Victor wasn’t about to drop the ball during the final test.
