Chapter54 Let Me Put Ointment On It
Miranda's body shivered uncontrollably. She leaned over, her soft skin pressing against his hot, hard legs. The intense heat nearly scorched her.
"Clifton, you..."
Her words were swallowed whole by the man's low groans and his forceful actions.
This night was destined to be sleepless.
Miranda woke up again the next day. Staring at the darkened room, she was momentarily disoriented.
She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand. The bright screen showed it was already ten o'clock in the morning. She had slept incredibly late.
Miranda propped herself up on the mattress. The moment she moved, she felt a sharp, burning sting across her chest.
The wild, embarrassing scenes from last night instantly exploded in her mind, replaying without her permission.
Her cheeks flushed fiercely.
What is this man made of?
How could he have so much stamina? How did he keep going for so long?
Miranda looked down. Her fair skin was covered in tell-tale red marks. She felt like her skin was raw from his friction.
She frowned.
A ridiculous thought popped into her head: Maybe a man lasting too long is a kind of medical condition, too.
Should she find a way to suggest Clifton see a doctor?
She immediately cut the thought off.
Forget it.She was afraid he would push her down and take her again.
While she was lost in thought, the bedroom door was gently pushed open from the outside.
Clifton wheeled himself in. He was wearing dark gray loungewear and looked refined, with a lazy satisfaction in his eyes that suggested he was in excellent spirits.
Seeing Miranda was awake, he wheeled over to the window and pressed a button on the remote.
The heavy curtains slowly drew back, and warm sunlight instantly flooded the room, making it bright and clear.
Clifton came to the bedside. His eyes fell on her slightly swollen lips, and his gaze darkened. Then he saw her instinctive gesture of covering her chest.
As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, his voice was low, carrying a slight morning huskiness: "Let me put ointment on it."
Miranda froze. Following his line of sight, she saw a small tube of cream in his hand. Her mind went blank, and the heat in her cheeks surged again.
"No!" Miranda practically snatched the cream from his hand, clutching it tightly . "I can do it myself!"
Without daring to look at Clifton again, she threw back the covers and rushed into the bathroom, a hint of flustered retreat in her hurried exit.
Clifton watched the closed bathroom door, dark emotions swirling in his eyes. A barely visible smile touched his lips. He seemed quite pleased.
Inside the bathroom, Miranda finished washing up and twisted open the cap of the ointment. A cool, herbal scent wafted out.
Looking in the mirror, she carefully applied the cream to the skin on her chest. The cool sensation instantly soothed the fiery pain; it felt much better.
This man, while a demanding beast in bed, was shockingly thoughtful in other ways.
This contradiction left Miranda feeling utterly confused.
In the afternoon, Miranda was sitting on the living room sofa, looking intently at layout options for Clifton's birthday party venue on her tablet.
As she was engrossed, a sharp, quick sound of high heels approached, carrying an air of hostility.
She looked up and saw a young woman, dressed flashily, striding toward her with an arrogant expression. It was Clifton's cousin, Celeste.
Miranda already knew from their last encounter that Celeste was spoiled and didn't like her. Since the feeling wasn't mutual, Miranda wasn't going to try to force a relationship.
Miranda dropped her gaze, returning to the tablet in her hands, as if she hadn't seen the other woman at all.
Celeste saw that Miranda dared to ignore her, and her pretty face instantly filled with deep anger.
She rushed over to Miranda, looked down at her, and spoke in a sharp, harsh voice: "Miranda, don't think that just because Grandpa gave you the job of planning my cousin's birthday party, you can act like the lady of the house here. I'm telling you, I will never accept you as my sister-in-law!"
The finger Miranda was using to scroll the screen paused.
She slowly looked up, meeting Celeste's furious eyes with a cool, calm gaze. Her voice was flat, without a hint of emotion.
"I am Clifton's legal wife. The marriage certificate is protected by law." She paused, then her red lips parted to deliver the most cutting words: "If he accepts me, that's all that matters. As for you or anyone else, it's irrelevant."
The single sentence, light as it was, hit Celeste like a stinging slap in the face.
"You!" Celeste's face cycled through shades of green and white with fury. Her chest heaved.
She looked at Miranda's composed, detached manner and felt a ball of anger lodged in her throat, unable to go up or down.
In her rage, she grabbed the glass of water from the coffee table and raised her hand to throw it at Miranda's face.
Miranda's eyes narrowed. She quickly raised her arm to block it.
"Splash—!"
Most of the water ended up soaking Celeste's own expensive Chanel dress. The cold liquid spread quickly, leaving her looking utterly drenched and miserable.
Just then, steady footsteps sounded behind them. Mr. Prescott was walking in from outside.
Celeste had her back to the door and didn't see her grandfather appear. She only saw Miranda dare to fight back and screamed in fury: "Miranda, you bitch! You dared to duck!"
Miranda acted as if she hadn't heard the insult. She put down the tablet, grabbed a tissue, and stood up with a look of concern, attempting to wipe the water off Celeste.
"Cousin, how could you be so clumsy? You spilled water all over yourself." Her voice was gentle and concerned. "You should go change quickly, or you'll catch a cold in wet clothes."
This display of gentle generosity only pushed Celeste further into a frenzy.
"Who are you calling cousin!" She slapped Miranda's hand away, yelling hysterically, "Stop being so fake! I'm telling you, you just wait! I'll kick your shameless ass out of Prescott eventually!"
The moment she finished speaking, an old but authoritative roar, like thunder in a clear sky, exploded behind her.
"That's enough!"
Celeste froze solid, her expression instantly hardening. She mechanically turned around. When she saw Mr. Prescott standing there, his face livid, her heart leaped, and her arrogance instantly deflated.
"Gr-Grandpa..."
Mr. Prescott didn't even look at her. He strode forward and slammed his hand onto the table with a dull thud that made Celeste flinch again.
"Since when have my Prescott descendants become so ill-mannered?" Mr. Prescott's gaze cut into Celeste's face like a knife, his voice filled with disappointment and rage. "Yelling at your elder sister-in-law and calling her names—is this the conduct your parents taught you?"
"Grandpa! No! It was her—" Celeste panicked, pointing at Miranda to complain.
"Be quiet!"