He almost suspected she was doing it on purpose, clearly knowing he couldn’t stand her, yet she kept snuggling, snuggling, and snuggling again.
His thin lips moved slightly, with a hint of a rasp, he commanded softly, "Stop moving around." He could barely handle her, and she kept squirming in his arms.
Eva Nightingale really stopped moving.
Actually, it wasn’t like she wanted to move!
This President, holding her, was only hugging her tighter, as if she was some rare gem, hugging and not willing to let go.
She was sitting on his lap.
She must have sat on a gun, right? It was hard and very uncomfortable for her.
The President should be afraid of being assassinated, so he carries a "gun" with him, right?
But his gun is really very hard, making her very uncomfortable.
She had a quirk, just like Carla Carr, usually getting into trouble, liking to poke the "Hornet’s Nest."
Now that this gun was making her uncomfortable, of course, it should be grabbed and then thrown away, right?
Do you think I’m right? Sitting on something hard, like a "stick," so scary, of course, it should be thrown away.
She looked at him, "Mr. President, I have a request, can you promise me?"
The man lowered his eyes, frowning slightly, don’t even mention one, as long as she said a word, he could do a thousand or ten thousand for her!
"Baby, what request?" he asked, rubbing her fluffy head.
Eva played the cheeky prankster again, saying, "I think I found you carrying a gun, very hard, making me uncomfortable, can you..."
"Mr. President, can you... let me throw away your gun?"
His brows furrowed tightly; when did he carry a gun? He had bandages wrapped around him, wearing a black robe, the belt loosely tied, looking lazy yet casual. ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ novel⟡fire.net
Without waiting for his permission.
She reached over, directly grabbing at that so-called "gun."
"Mm." Quite the little thing! Was she doing it on purpose?
Wasn’t a gun supposed to be cold? How come this gun was getting warm...
She quickly let go, escaping from his embrace, and ran off...
Just like that, she ran off.
Eva inwardly cursed! She swore, she wasn’t doing it on purpose, really not on purpose, she couldn’t handle this, better run!
Lucas Knight was still sitting there.
Looking down at his lower abdomen.
The place she had touched was radiating warmth, swelling, soreness, it hurt, getting more and more painful.
He slightly curved his lips.
That little woman, she was doing it on purpose.
Having provoked him, how could she escape so easily? She’s his wife, his treasure, in this life, the next life, she’ll never escape his grasp.
Eva was wearing a long dress.
Because it was an impromptu "escape," she moved particularly quickly, her long dress flowing even more.
The corridors of Nightfall Palace were resplendent, with soft, thick Persian carpets on the floor.
She turned several corners, and in front of her was the elevator.
She grumbled inwardly: that man, such a good figure, and that thing so... big...
She needed to stay far away from it.
Otherwise, she might not be able to get out of bed for days.
Besides, the little bun in her belly wouldn’t want her to be "earthquaked" every few days, right?
She definitely didn’t do it on purpose just now.
Because those bodyguards all carry guns, so she thought his thing was also a gun.