CHAPTER 181: CHAPTER 181 POSSESSIVENESS

William Foster shook his head in denial, "No one has ever said that."

He looked at Clara Bennett calmly, with a gentle warmth in his eyes.

His gaze was as tender as water, seemingly able to melt the heart, making one feel an unprecedented sense of peace.

Clara asked in surprise, "Really, no one?"

How could that be possible?

Such a soft head of hair, it makes people want to reach out and caress its smoothness.

William explained, "No one would do that at home."

He wasn’t lying; indeed, no one dared to do so, as the Foster family members all hoped to live a bit longer.

After all, no one wanted to anger Sir Foster, which would only bring unnecessary trouble upon themselves.

Who would dare touch Sir Foster’s hair?

That would be like digging up dirt on the head of the god of land; an act of sheer recklessness.

Hearing this, Clara’s heart immediately ached.

Indeed, he was not spoiled since childhood, and naturally, no one had tenderly ruffled his hair, which made her feel very sad.

Clara softly said, "Don’t be sad, when you want someone to rub your head, I can do it for you."

She sincerely wished to bring him some warmth, letting him feel the sense of being loved.

William liked this feeling, but there was still some pride in his bones, so he said, "I’m a man, how can I always let others rub my head."

Though his words were strong, they couldn’t hide his yearning for such an intimate gesture.

Clara raised an eyebrow and retorted, "Oh, so you don’t need any hugs or kisses either?"

Her tone was gentle with a hint of provocation, as if she had already seen through his thoughts.

William immediately changed his attitude, wrapped his arms around her waist, buried his head in her chest, and nuzzled, saying, "Only my little wife at home can rub my head."

His words carried a sense of pampering and possessiveness, clearly allowing only her to have this privilege.

Clara laughed and said, "Stop nuzzling; you’re acting like a little puppy."

Though her words had a hint of teasing, there was more affection and tolerance.

Being called a dog, William wasn’t angry; instead, he pulled Clara closer and gave her a kiss, saying in a slightly hoarse voice, "What dog are you talking about? The kind that keeps you from getting out of bed, a big male dog?"

The words were full of innuendo and flirtation, making one’s heart race.

If outsiders knew about this, they would probably drop their jaws in amazement.

Such intimate interactions were indeed rare, even too bold to some extent.

Too corny, really too corny.

"Wife—" his deep, magnetic voice echoed beside her ear in the darkness, sounding passionate.

"Clara—" he called softly once more, hoping she would get closer to him.

"Baby—" this time, more coquettishness was in his voice, making it irresistible.

"Little wife—" William continued to call Clara these affectionate terms by her ear, each filled with endless affection.

In the darkness, William’s deep, magnetic voice repeated beside her ear, filled with passion.

Clara found this a bit annoying; despite how warm these words made her feel, the frequency was indeed headache-inducing.

In exasperation and embarrassment, she said, "Shut up!"

Before the words finished, her cheeks had already blushed, clearly stirred by him.

The unexplainable emotion and shyness intertwined, making her voice tremble a little.

William, however, only chuckled silently, his laughter carrying a hint of mockery, making people’s hearts itch, almost unbearably!

A strange emotion arose in Clara’s heart, feeling she had fallen into his trap, so she thought of ways to torment him in return.

After thinking for a moment, she decided to give him a taste of his own medicine by calling his name.

"William—" with a note of coquettishness, Clara attempted to retaliate against his earlier behavior.

This coquettish call was like a silent protest against his previous rudeness, but it also carried a subtle emotion.

"Husband—" the result was just as expected, and now she must taste the bitter fruit of her actions.

Just after saying those words, she regretted it, but there was no taking them back.

William was not tormented in the least, instead laughing even more brightly, telling Clara, "Be good, call me ’husband’ a few more times, I really like hearing your voice."

Hearing this, Clara felt a bit helpless, thinking: Who cares if you like it or not!

Her emotions became complicated, filled with both anger and confusion.

Their hair was intertwined, looking particularly intimate under the light, almost merging into one.

Yet faced with such a shameless man, Clara could only choose to surrender, using tomorrow’s tasks as a reason to get William to obediently go to sleep.

"I have a lot of things to do tomorrow, you should go to sleep now."

She tried to keep her tone calm, but couldn’t hide her inner helplessness.

Who knew this man wouldn’t let it go, acting spoiled, "I can’t sleep yet."

Seeing his boyish face, Clara couldn’t help but find it both exasperating and amusing, "Then try counting sheep."

Clara looked utterly helpless, too tired to argue anymore, "I have work tomorrow, so hurry up and sleep!"

There was a slight warning in her eyes.

William had no interest in such things; instead, he preferred to fall asleep holding his wife.

"I want to sleep holding you."

As he said this, a determined glow flickered in William’s eyes.

His tone was full of anticipation, as if to tell her this was what he yearned for the most.

Considering the important matters for the next day, Clara outright rejected his suggestion, "I’m not used to being held while sleeping, I need to sleep alone."

William seemed a bit surprised by her response, tentatively asking, "Really can’t?"

His tone revealed some disappointment, but more than that, a hope that she might change her mind.

Clara explained, "It would make me sleep poorly."

Hearing those words, William had no choice but to say regretfully, "Okay, dear, even though I’d love to hold you while we sleep, I’ll hold back so you can rest well, good night."

At that moment, William was like an utter hypocrite, practically deserving the nickname—Lily Foster.

He wasn’t sure if this method would work, but he decided to try it.

Clara sensed a hint of hidden disappointment in his tone, unexpectedly feeling a bit of compassion. She extended her small hand and said, "I can accept holding hands."

This compromise seemed to both preserve her dignity and offer him a small comfort.

Hearing this, William was stunned for a few seconds, though it was dark and hard to see, one could feel the slight upward curve of his lips.