Mr. Ford Is Jealous

Chapter 487

Finding her reaction hilarious, Weston suddenly leaned in closer to her, kissing her on the nose. “Which part of your body have I not seen? Why are you still so shy?” Stella pushed him away. “No need. I can do it myself.” Weston’s brows furrowed as he looked at her. He had thought that she was angry because he refused to listen to her and insisted on carrying her all the way to the car. Now that he thought about it, it seems like there was another reason for her anger. Weston said in a teasing voice, “Seems like I thought wrong. Are you jealous?” He had stood up for Daisy, reacting to the displeasure of hearing Stella talk about her first love. Who asked her to gush about how heroic and valiant her first crush was? 

He wanted to let her witness how anyone can do something so trivial, and, therefore, it was not worthy for her to remember for so many years. 

Who knew that she would be jealous over something so trivial? “Jealous?” Stella’s eyes widened in disbelief as she looked at him as if he just cracked the greatest joke of all time. “You must be dreaming.” Weston didn’t like her dismissive tone and pinched her nose, “What? Does the great Stella Sealey not know how to be jealous?” Stella shook her head, “I wouldn’t do something so immature.” “Really?” Weston leaned closer to her and whispered in a low voice that was laced with threats. Stella found that the man before her was behaving in a bewildering way. Why did he behave like he would get angry if she weren’t jealous? “Do you like to see me jealous?” Weston remained silent as he stared at her. Stella sighed. “Fine, I am jealous. Are you happy now?” 

that she was just placating him, but

his words ironic and bordering on hilarious. As a man who was already a father, did he not feel shy saying something so mushy? Weston held Stella’s arms up and lifted her shirt up again. This time, she did not stop

at seeing her pained expression. The next time he tried to move his fingers, he did so much more

even recovered completely, leaving light bruises in its wake. Yet now, she was bumped so hard that it aggravated her old injury. Although her skin wasn’t punctured, the bruise was huge and jarring on the eyes. Weston’s hands paused in mid-air as he spoke in a hoarse voice. “I really should have broken his legs.” Stella’s skin was fine and delicate, and he couldn’t even bear to use much

overly careful and gentle, like a feather brushing across the skin. Stella felt like a fragile doll made of glass and squirmed in discomfort. “You don’t have