He was holding a hot, steaming towel; he must have just done that inside.
As he walked out and glanced at Summer Ford's neck, he took a few steps toward her, pulled her into his arms, and started wiping her neck on his own accord.
This was Ethan Laurent's typical way of handling things; he didn't like any other man's scent lingering on her.
Summer Ford found his cleanliness obsession a bit twisted.
The skin on her neck was delicate, and Ethan was not gentle.
When the towel rubbed over her skin, Summer Ford felt a sharp pain and instinctively recoiled her neck, "Ethan Laurent, what are you doing?"
"Disinfecting, can't you tell?" Ethan answered without changing his expression.
Summer Ford was so angry her body trembled.
"What does it matter to you if I'm poisonous or not?" Summer Ford lifted her face in angry retort.
Her words were purely out of dissatisfaction from being tormented by him.
