Mr. Ford Is Jealous Chapter 1300

Chapter 1300Chapter 1300
Stella was shocked. “Didn’t you tell me in the car that you are not hurt.”
“That was that. I didn’t want to say it with the chauffeur around.”
“Why do you even care for your image? Just say it if you are hurt. There is nothing proud about hiding.”
Stella knitted her brows and sat in front of him. “Where are you hurt?”
He pulled her hand and put it on his chest. “Here.”
She withdrew her hand immediately. “If I didn’t mishear it, you are the one who beat him. How could you
be so badly injured?”
“He is also a grown man. It’s impossible that I remain unscathed.”
Then, he put her finger on the corner of his mouth. The moment she touched it, he hissed and drew a
breath of cold air.
She was speechless and said helplessly, “Wait for Joan to come back and treat you.”
The man grabbed her hand immediately and rubbed it in his palm. “No, I don’t want another woman to
touch me.”
She was dumbfounded and said, “But she is your mother.”
“So what? I am a grown man and don’t want my mother to touch me.”
He justified, “I got wounded because of you. You can’t be this heartless.”
She was silent for a long time. Seeing that she did not say anything and did not object, the man said directly, “Help me unbutton my
shirt.”
He pulled her hands and put them on his shirt. “My chest hurts as well.”
She knew he did it on purpose, or maybe he was exaggerating, but he had just helped her after all…
Thus, she sighed, then fumbled to unbutton his shirt.
Just as she started to move, she suddenly feel a shadow in front of her.
The man lifted her chin, and her lips were stolen by him.
Her eyes went wide at once, and she pushed him away.
What are you doing!”
“Sorry. I couldn’t hold back when you were pawing at me earlier.”
She glared at him. “I was just unbuttoning your shirt! I thought you said you were injured and couldn’t lift
your hand?”
“Yes. I just let you unbutton the shirt, but I did not ask you to seduce me.”
“Did I?”
“Aren’t you seducing me when you touch me?”
“I—”
She was too angry to talk to him. “Do it yourself.” He looked at her obscurely, his throat rolling up and down.
After a long time, he said to her, “I won’t tease you anymore, go on.”
She refused to touch him again.
She thought about the touch on her hand just now and said, out of nowhere. “You like wearing shirts as
much as he does.”
“Yeah.”
The man suddenly laughed and said ambiguously, “Since you cannot get your ex–husband out of your
mind, I inquired about his dressing style, thinking that if you could like him, there should be something in
him that I could learn from.”
She paused for a moment and said to him, “It doesn’t have to be in such a way, everyone is different, you
should not imitate him.”
“Really? I’m just trying to get you to like me.”
She shook her head and said, “It’s because of liking him that I liked him wearing shirts. It’s not because
of him wearing shirts that I liked him. You got it the other way around.”
The man was taken aback as if not expecting her to say that.
He looked at her sitting on the sofa. She looked particularly demure in that amber nightgown she wore.
Her hair had grown quite a bit, hanging softly down to her waist. Not permed or dyed, it looked fresh and
naturally beautiful.