CHAPTER 33: CHAPTER 33- LOOKS GOOD

Although the longing was almost unbearable, Morrison held himself back.

He knew that if he got too forward, too reckless again, this time she might just kick him out for good.

So after a lingering kiss, he let her go—

Instead, he held her close in his arms, gently stroking her back, calming his racing emotions with that quiet embrace.

Surprisingly, being kissed again didn’t make Lilian angry at all.

Her head spun a little as she thought to herself:

Habits really are scary things.

At first, she had resisted every kiss, fighting it tooth and nail—

But now, after so many times, she had grown used to it.

She no longer felt angry or uneasy.

Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen him for more than ten days, and deep down, she had missed him just a little—

That’s why she hadn’t pushed away his kiss.

Morrison then unpacked the gifts she’d brought: two dress shirts, a tie, and a wallet.

Both shirts were white, though the styles were completely different.

The tie was golden yellow mixed with midnight blue—a color that belonged to a successful man.

The wallet was simple and elegant in black.

Her taste in gifts matched her personality perfectly—subtle and understated, yet somehow memorable.

But why... two white shirts?

He looked at the two crisp shirts and asked,

"Why are both shirts white?"

Lilian propped her chin up in her hands, answering confidently,

"You’re so smart with women. Don’t you know women love men who wear white dress shirts?"

Morrison was speechless.

He wasn’t sure if she was praising him or mocking him, but either way, it stung his ears.

Sure, he understood women—

But he had no idea about this little girl.

Holding the shirts, he turned and started toward his bedroom.

Lilian rushed to grab him,

"What are you doing?"

"You said you like men in white shirts, didn’t you? I’m going to put one on and show you."

His argument was reasonable. Lilian sighed,

"No, no, that’s fine. Wear it another day—then I’ll see."

The moment he stepped into her bedroom, she remembered the last time he had slept on her bed—and how that memory still gave her chills.

Now he wanted to change clothes here? That was just too much for her to accept.

But he didn’t listen at all—

"Put it on now. Let’s see if it fits."

Lilian thought he had a point. After all, dress shirts were supposed to be fitted—too big or too small would just look bad.

But before she could fully process it, he had already slipped into her bedroom.

Lilian awkwardly returned to the couch.

Then she thought, wait a minute—

Even if it’s too big or too small, there’s no way to exchange it now. She bought these overseas, so the fit didn’t really matter.

Still, he was already in her bedroom.

If she stopped him now, he might already be halfway undressed.

So, she sulked on the sofa, waiting for his "white shirt show."

She had seen him wear white shirts before, but seeing him in one she picked out felt different somehow.

When Morrison walked out wearing the first shirt, all the buttons were neatly fastened—classic, gentlemanly, elegant.

Not a hint of skin showing, yet somehow unbelievably sexy—a kind of sexy without revealing anything at all.

He strode right over to her and asked,

"So? How do I look?"

Lilian glanced at him a few times, then wanted to cover her face.

She didn’t have the courage to look any longer; she felt like she was about to be completely mesmerized.

But a voice in her head kept warning,

Lilian, don’t get captivated. He’s not serious about you. If you fall for him now, what will you do later?

"Looks good," she answered quietly.

Inside, though, her heart screamed,

He’s so handsome! So perfect!

"Just ’good’?" Morrison frowned, clearly unsatisfied.

He leaned in, wanting her to look again—

But Lilian quickly pushed him back toward the bedroom.

"Come on, hurry up and change into the other one."

So, he went back to change.

This time, he came out with a relaxed vibe.

A few buttons at the collar undone, sleeves casually rolled up at the cuffs.

The look was clean, comfortable, and effortlessly natural.

Lilian had no resistance left.

She glanced once, then buried her face in the sofa.

Hearing his footsteps approach, she didn’t even wait for him to speak and mumbled,

"You don’t need to ask. It’s handsome. Really good."

She said that, but kept her face buried deep in the sofa, not daring to look at him again.

Morrison couldn’t help but laugh out loud at her behavior.

"You say it looks good, but why won’t you look?"

Lilian buried herself even further.

"I did look. So you can take it off now."

She really was asking for trouble. Why did she even bother buying him white shirts?

Now that he wore them, he looked so good it almost made her a fangirl for a split second.

Morrison bent down and picked her up, then sat down on the sofa with her in his arms, looking at her seriously.

"The shirts look great. I really like them. The tie too, and the wallet as well."

Lilian met his gaze for a few seconds, then awkwardly looked away.

"As long as you like them..."

She stood up and quickly left the room.

"I’m going to organize my luggage."

She hurried off to pack her things. Morrison was too sharp not to notice her strange behavior—he smiled faintly.

Being shy meant she cared, didn’t it?

After finishing packing, Lilian suddenly felt a rumble in her stomach.

"I’m so hungry."

She clutched her empty stomach and padded over to the fridge, hoping to find something to eat.

But when she opened it, it was completely empty.

Only then did she remember that she’d cleaned out the fridge before leaving.

Morrison followed her over, glanced inside, then checked the kitchen cabinets—all empty.

He sighed helplessly,

"Not even a single thing to eat?"

Lilian nodded weakly.

She didn’t cook, so there was never much food at home.

Her only snacks had been in the fridge, but she’d eaten those all before the trip.

"Then order some takeout," Morrison suggested.

Morrison shrugged, a bit helpless.

"I was actually hoping to cook you something if you had food at home, but turns out even the best cook can’t work without ingredients."

Lilian couldn’t help but chuckle, surprised.

"You can cook?"

Morrison laughed.

"Don’t believe me?"

"Not really."

Lilian nodded.

"My brother can’t cook a thing. If he tried, he’d probably burn down the kitchen. And honestly, I’m not much better..."

She meant that, just like her family, the Morrisons were wealthy, with parents around to take care of everything, so the kids never really had to learn how to cook.

In Lilian’s experience, she’d been treated like a princess all her life—clothes came easy, meals were always served—so it was hard for her to imagine Morrison actually cooking.

Morrison glanced at her, a self-deprecating smile on his face.

"That’s because you’ve been lucky. Tiffany has taken great care of you from the start. You never needed to learn those skills."

"Our family’s different," he continued, his tone softening.

"My mom was always working alongside my dad. When me and my little brother were young, we were taught to fend for ourselves. Since my brother’s much younger, I was the one looking after him. Naturally, I had to learn everything."

Lilian hadn’t expected this side of him—the usually cheerful, confident man showing a glimpse of a heavier past.

She stared at him for a moment, imagining the little boy caring for his younger brother.

A strange pang of sympathy swelled in her chest.

Morrison saw the heaviness in her expression and couldn’t help but smile. He reached out and gently ruffled her hair, his tone brightening again.

"Every experience in life is a kind of wealth. We should be thankful for the tough times, because it’s those moments that shape who we are today."

Maybe it was those words that touched something inside Lilian, because she found herself quietly saying,

"Actually, you and your brother are lucky too. At least your dad didn’t make mistakes. He and your mom are still so loving now. But my dad made mistakes when he was young... now my mom doesn’t want him anymore."

Thinking about her parents’ ongoing divorce, a heavy cloud settled over Lilian’s heart.

Morrison looked at her with a sudden tenderness. He never would have guessed that someone as carefree and easygoing as her could carry such worries and helplessness inside.

He could only comfort her gently,

"There’s always a way out when you get to the mountain. For now, don’t overthink things."

He’d always thought the girl was carefree and didn’t dwell on such matters, but today he realized she was actually so thoughtful and sensitive.

Lilian sighed deeply,

"Why are men always so cruel? Why do they keep hurting women like this? My dad was like that, my brother too. Why can’t they just cherish what they have? If they can’t, then what was the point of getting married in the first place?"