"Harry Hunter, no way!"
"Mm."
Harry Hunter responded lowly, but his hands showed no sign of stopping.
"Harry Hunter!"
"Mm."
"You're still hurt, don't mess around!"
"It's just a small injury, it doesn't affect our intimacy."
"The doctor said we can't!"
"Can't trust quack doctors."
Isabella Weaver didn't know whether to be angry or to laugh. Her brain short-circuited, and she bit Harry Hunter's neck in frustration.
The skin on the neck was thin and sensitive, and Harry Hunter let out a low hum, the blood flow in his body quickening.
He picked Isabella Weaver up straightaway and strode towards the bedroom.
Isabella Weaver was shocked: "Your injury, you can't carry me!"
She struggled to get down, and since Harry Hunter's shoulder was indeed badly hurt, he let go of her to walk on her own.
As Isabella Weaver walked into the bedroom, she suddenly realized something wasn't right. Wasn't she walking right into a trap!
