The next day.
Claire Prescott was woken up by the alarm.
She hadn't even stretched when she felt her waist aching unbearably,
recalling last night, she felt deeply regretful.
If she'd known, she wouldn't have said those words.
With sleepy eyes, she washed up and went downstairs, glimpsing the man sitting on the sofa drinking lemon water. Judging from the situation, it seems he hadn't been up for long either.
Stopping three steps from the bottom, she commanded him from afar, "Come over and carry me."
Hearing this.
Keane Lowell looked up at her, eyes full of doting affection.
After placing the water on the coffee table, he came over to carry her.
"Does your waist hurt?" he asked softly.
Claire blushed, wrapping her arms around his neck with her chin resting on his shoulder,
Keane placed her down on his lap, his hand covering her lower back through her clothes, massaging as he asked, "Does this feel better?"
