Passionate Devotion: Master Fudd's Beloved Wife novel Chapter 894

Cherie shoved the first aid kit back into Boyle’s arm and said coldly, “There’s a mirror in the bathroom. You can do it yourself.”

Boyle hugged her from the back as soon as she turned around. He said in a helpless yet teasing tone, “Look at me. Please have mercy on me?”

A doting smile crept across Boyle’s face as he said that.

Cherie opened her mouth and she wanted to say, ‘How can you be so shameless?’

However, Boyle had already grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. She was facing him now.

The man opened the first aid kit skillfully. He took out a cotton swab and handed it over to her soft hands. His actions were smooth and the expression on his face… he looked like he deserved a beating.

Boyle leaned his tall body against the table and stood leisurely. He looked very laid-back. He cocked his head and showed Cherie his bruise to make it easier for her to treat it.

Cherie was speechless.

Cherie dipped the cotton swab into the iodine before she pressed the cotton swab onto the scrape on his face.

Her movements were quite rough.

Boyle frowned as it stung a little.

Wearing an emotionless expression, Cherie reminded him as she treated his bruise, “I’m not the type to be gentle. I’m a rough person.”

Boyle was speechless.

He stared at her pretty and delicate face. After a few moments, a faint smile broke across his face. “I like it even if you’re rough.”

Cherie remained silent.

She pressed the cotton swab harder into his wound.

Boyle felt the pain shot through him yet he did not say anything. He willingly let her do whatever she wanted and simply kept staring at her face dotingly. His deep gaze was so passionate and seducing.

Boyle said, “My mum brought us a large jar of sour beans from my hometown after she found out that we reunited. She left them at the mansion in Lake Street. I can cook sautéed sour beans with minced pork rice for you when you visit North City.”

“I don’t like it anymore.”

He did not know whether she was talking about him or the sautéed sour beans with minced pork rice.

Boyle did not lose his temper. He thought he deserved to be treated that way so he continued saying patiently, “Ms. Sonia likes you a lot and she wants to meet you.”

Ms. Sonia was Boyle’s mother.

Cherie liked her a lot as well.

She kept silent but she did not reject him directly. After all, Sonia was Boyle’s mother.

Noticing she did not talk back to him, he said, “My mother and I used to get beaten up everyday when I was young. We had scars and bruises on our face almost everyday. My classmates always made fun of me.”

“There was this one time when I beat up a guy because he kept making fun of me. That was my first time initiating a fight. My teacher gave me a dreadful scolding. She even called my mum to the school and made me apologize to that classmate and his parents.

“My homeroom teacher somehow knew that my father was abusive because she saw the scars on my mother’s face. She told her that I might have inherited my father’s aggression and asked my mum to discipline me at home.

“She ignored what my mother and I were going through and she didn’t condemn my father’s abusive behavior. Instead, she suspected a kid who was just trying to defend himself after being bullied and claimed that I had abusive traits.

“Since then, I gradually became insensitive to pain.”

Cherie pressed the cotton swab harder into his scar.

Boyle was not expecting her to do that. He dodged as the sudden pain shot through him.

Cherie said, “I thought you can’t feel pain anymore. Why did you dodge?”

Boyle was speechless.

She was done treating his wound.

Cherie said, “I finished my supper and I’m done treating your wound. I feel sleepy now, can you please leave?”

Boyle bent down and carried her.

Cherie gasped out of surprise. She was in his arms and she glared at him, “What are you doing?”

“I’m tucking you into bed.”

The corner of Cherie’s eyes twitched.

Boyle carried her and gently placed her down onto the bed. Then, he covered her with the quilt.

Cherie could not fall asleep as he was staring at her.

She was actually not sleepy. She simply said she was sleepy so that he could leave.

Who knew he was so thick-skinned? He did not have the intention to leave at all.

She pulled the quilt over her head to avoid seeing him.

Boyle lifted his hands and took off her blankets slightly. He reminded her kindly, “You might suffocate.”

Cherie was speechless.

Boyle reached out his hand to caress her head as though he was putting a kid to bed. He said in a soft tone, “Sleep.”