Mr. CEO's Substitute Bride
Chapter 294 - 290. Uncle Mo likes the elder aunt, you like the younger aunt.

Chapter 294: 290. Uncle Mo likes the elder aunt, you like the younger aunt.

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Beatrice Hargrave lifted her eyes, her moist pupils gazing at the man above, while her curled eyelashes trembled with each blink, stirring an irresistible itch in the heart.

Her slightly pursed lips shimmered, swollen either from just being kissed by Nicholas Croft or intentionally pouted by her.

"No," these two words carried disdain, in a tiny voice, like a cat, "Proper girls do not indulge in such vices."

Nicholas Croft’s downcast gaze still carried unscattered affection, locking eyes with the girl’s moist pupils, he took another drag, exhaled some, then directly pressed down his handsome face, his lips fresh from smoking sealed onto Beatrice’s lips, sucking, savoring, grinding, his hot tongue slipped into her mouth stirring around until the kiss was thoroughly enjoyed before pulling away, his full forehead resting against Beatrice’s, speaking with a low hoarse voice.

"Do you dislike it?"

Beatrice was briefly stunned, not understanding the meaning behind Nicholas Croft’s words, thinking he was asking about the kiss, she was about to shake her head, "I don’t dislike it."

Nicholas Croft’s slightly misty eyes tightened because of Beatrice’s answer.

Being a seasoned smoker, and having just smoked, the lingering taste of smoke was not something ordinary people could withstand.

Before that kiss, he deliberately took a drag, and then kissed her lips, knowing she dislikes the smell of smoke, yet she does not dislike his lips and tongue tainted with the smell of smoke...

Lifting his hand, his slender fingers brought the half-smoked cigarette back to his lips, Nicholas Croft slowly took another puff, his phoenix eyes darkened, but he said nothing.

Beatrice once again lifted her small face, her cheeks, just moisturized, revealed a hint of pink, "Uncle Croft, do all men like excitement?"

Nicholas Croft lowered his gaze, his eyes fell on the blushing small face clinging to his chest, slowly exhaled the smoke in his mouth, "Why say that?"

Beatrice still looked up, her curled eyelashes appeared even denser.

"You see, Uncle Mo has his own wife, yet he fancies his own aunt-in-law, and you, Uncle Croft, have a fiancée, yet you favor your own aunt-in-law,"

At this, Beatrice frowned, her delicate eyebrows close to knitting together in quandary.

"You all like your woman’s sister or sister-in-law, is it because the special status makes it particularly exciting when it happens?"

Beatrice’s clear eyes were filled with curiosity, like a child seeking knowledge, waiting for the teacher to help solve her doubts.

Nicholas Croft, with his gaze still downcast, his emotions unclear, yet he said, "How many times do I have to tell you, Hannah Hargrave is not my fiancée!"

"Then why does everyone at home say this? Saying you two will get married, mom and dad say so, and my sister often mentions it to me."

Pressing the cigarette in his hand into the ashtray on the nightstand in front of the bed, Nicholas Croft turned his body, gathered up the girl clinging to him, letting her rest against his chest, locking into her eyes, he sighed and said.

"That’s their wishful thinking."

"Do you really not like my sister?" Beatrice asked curiously, blinking.

"I don’t like her," he stated, punctuated by light, shallow pecks on her lips, Nicholas Croft said, "I only like you."

As the words fell, the kiss continued, landing on Beatrice’s eyebrows, nose, and corners of her lips, drifting down to her neck, in a moment of passion, a husky voice said, "Beatrice, come up..."

Outside was utterly quiet, inside, the sounds of striking continued.