CHAPTER 77: CHAPTER 77: SHE’S NOT WORTH MY ANGER

Plain water.

Florence thought he wasn’t willing to drink with her, but he seriously said, "In this situation, at least one of us needs to stay completely sober."

Florence’s expression changed, "I’m not saying I want to take advantage of the alcohol to sleep with you."

Ethan: "..."

To his surprise, Florence was knocked out after just two glasses of liquor.

And she was thoroughly drunk.

She couldn’t be woken up no matter what.

Ethan sat there for less than ten minutes before carrying her away.

At that time, he hadn’t even taken a sip of the water in his hand and just watched as she downed the first glass in one go. Her face gradually turned rosy, and he advised, "Don’t drink too fast, take it slow."

Florence didn’t look at him, she just stared blankly ahead and after a while, she poured herself a second glass.

She drank the second glass in three sips.

After each sip, she paused before taking another. After the third sip, she stood up, looked at him for a moment, walked two steps towards him, then directly fell onto the sofa.

She fell asleep.

Ethan caught half of her body, initially worried that she might have had a problem from drinking, but her heartbeat and breathing were normal—she was just thoroughly drunk.

He took her back to the Silk Cloud Villa, where Abigail saw Florence sleeping soundly in her drunken state. Hearing Ethan’s story, she chuckled fondly and said it was cute.

Abigail wiped Florence down and changed her into pajamas, while Ethan made some honey water to sober her up and fed it to her.

Thinking of this, Ethan’s eyelashes slightly lifted, and he looked at her warmly, "Do you always think our first kiss was at the ski resort?"

Florence thought for a moment, then shook her head, "I always felt like you’ve stolen kisses from me before."

Ethan didn’t deny it, "I did steal a kiss, but the first real kiss was that night."

She was thoroughly drunk, and he had given her honey water twice. The first time it spilled on her clothes. Abigail wiped her down again, changed her into pajamas, and told her son, "Let her sleep for a while before having more."

So Ethan waited until Florence had slept for a few hours, and then woke her up in the early hours of the morning.

With her mind still foggy, Ethan encouraged her to drink. She drank a couple of sips, then tried to go back to sleep, but Ethan wouldn’t let her. She groaned in discomfort and half-heartedly drank another sip.

Ethan coaxed her, "Finish it, otherwise you’ll have a headache the next day."

Florence took another sip, "Finished."

She fell asleep again, but Ethan’s body was against her back, and she ended up sleeping on top of him, snoring away.

Yet Ethan said it wasn’t finished, and she dimly opened her eyes, leaned over to continue drinking, but would only take a sip before falling asleep again.

Ethan struggled to hold back his laughter, but ultimately, she made him laugh out loud.

This cycle repeated several times. When she finally finished the last sip, Ethan put the empty cup down and said, "There’s still one sip left."

The girl in his arms painfully opened her eyes, dazedly leaned over to drink, but in the next second, was held in place as damp lips pressed against hers. Ethan savored the sweet taste of honey water on her lips, not content to end it there, he parted her lips and explored for a deeper sweetness.

When the kiss ended, both of them were a bit out of breath. Ethan couldn’t resist pecking her lips again. After calming down, Florence smacked her lips as if savoring the kiss, pushed him away, he released her, and she went back to sleep.

The next day she woke up and forgot all about it.

Her lips were swollen, and she thought it was from the heat of the alcohol.

Florence chuckled softly and looked at him, "Did you really think that day when I forced myself on you, it was because of the alcohol?"

Ethan looked at her.

Florence said, "I only took a sip, just to get a taste."

Ethan looked at her, "I know."

Florence looked at him.

"You said that if I rejected you, you would never appear in front of me again," Ethan said as he looked at her. They silently gazed at each other for a moment, then he said, "How could you say such heartless words?"

"So you submitted to me just for that?" Florence said, "It wasn’t voluntary?"

"It was voluntary, but maybe not at the right time."

Florence handed over the empty glass again, "Then when do you think would have been the right time?"

In silence, Ethan poured her a drink.

Florence said, "Or did you regret it at that time?"

Ethan shook his head, "I’ve never regretted it."

On that night of revelry, the physical pleasure, the murmurs of deep connection, it was an exceptionally delightful evening.

Florence accepted the drink he handed over, added an ice cube, and swirled the glass, the liquid and ice colliding against the sides, making a crisp sound.

She glanced at Ethan, who appeared to be deep in thought, his eyes cast down.

The dim light cast shadows over his profile, giving him an obscure handsomeness. He seemed somewhat fragmented, his long eyelashes fluttering, lips slightly pursed.

As she let the last sip of liquor melt in her mouth, she pulled Ethan by the collar, and just as he turned, a cool kiss covered his lips.

With the faint taste of alcohol, the ice cube transferred into his mouth. Ethan wrapped his arms around her waist, lost in this passionate kiss.

When the ice melted away, Florence pulled back from his lips, gazing at his smoky eyes, she stroked his heaving chest, her fingers brushed across his moist lips.

What Florence loved most was the way he kissed and the way he looked after they were in bed together.

Just like a seductive fox.

"These three years, has anyone else seen you like this?" Florence asked, her hand caressing his face.

Ethan, embracing her, chased her hand with kisses, "No, only you have."

Florence chuckled softly, took the wine glass next to him, downed it with the ice, and kissed his lips again.

After the icy yet fiery kiss ended, Florence felt a bit better, "A reward."

Ethan’s fingers traced over her clothes, looking up at her unblinkingly.

Florence covered his eyes with her hand; if she looked any longer, she feared she’d lose control. Breaking away from Ethan’s embrace, she moved to stand by the floor-to-ceiling window.

"What are you thinking about now?" she asked.

Ethan rose to stand with her, without hesitation, "I’m thinking of you."

Florence leaned against the window, tilting her head slightly, "I’m thinking of my mother."

Images flashed in Ethan’s mind of how he saw Luke holding her at the hotel entrance this afternoon.

His eyes dimmed slightly, "She... what happened?"

"You should find out all about the Fuller Family’s issues once you start looking into them," Florence said, "I originally thought I could be cordial with my father, but when I went to that house to pick someone up today, I never expected him to have no bottom line, putting his wife and mistress together."

"And..." Her voice croaked, "Even after over twenty years married into the Fuller Family, how could she... it’s just so..."

Weak...

"You’re angry for her," Ethan said.

"I’m not," Florence denied, without much conviction, "she’s not worth my anger."