William Foster furrowed his brow and said firmly, "It's not just fear; it's a refusal to let others see."
He knew in his heart that he absolutely didn't want anyone to see Clara Bennett in her current state.
Her damp black hair clung to her neck, her eyes clear as spring water shimmering with gentle light, and the tantalizing figure wrapped beneath the robe…
If anyone dared to gaze upon such temptation for even a second longer, William Foster would make sure they paid for it.
Seeing him so tense, Clara couldn't help but laugh, "Don't worry, I have no intention of opening the door. Don't hang up, I'll deal with it."
Her words instantly soothed the slightly uneasy William Foster, allowing him to relax a little.
He obediently replied, "Alright, I'll listen to my little wife."
Clara gracefully picked up her phone and walked to the door, softly asking, "Who is it?"
A familiar voice came from outside, "Clara, it's me, George Taylor."
