Lorraine Hughes shamelessly occupied the king-sized bed all night, leaving the injured Nathan Bolton to sleep on the sofa.
She had a dream.
A springtime dream.
She dreamt of something wet on her lips, like a little puppy kissing her.
It was a bit ticklish, a bit stuffy, and it wouldn't stop.
Without hesitation, she waved it away.
Go away!
The wet feeling finally ceased, and she couldn't lift her heavy eyelids and fell back into slumber, dreaming of the Duke of Zhou.
Lorraine was awakened by a clattering noise.
The sound came from the kitchen. Following the noise, she saw Nathan Bolton standing there with a helpless look, his left cheek reddened, and the air filled with a burnt smell.
Nathan turned his head at the sound of footsteps, "I just wanted to cook some porridge."
Leaning against the doorframe, Lorraine yawned, "Sure, not blowing up the kitchen?"
Nathan: "..."
"You're the Crown Prince? Can't do anything?" Lorraine said as she intended to help clean up the mess.
