Chapter 310: Chapter 310: Little Sweetheart, Too Naive
Isabella Weaver glanced at the clock: "It’s only nine-thirty!"
"Then we can take a bath together, relax a bit, and prepare for tomorrow’s outing."
Isabella laughed to herself, she had never heard of preparing for an outing the night before like this!
"Taking a bath is fine, but you can’t bathe with me."
"Alright, then we’ll each have our own bath."
Isabella couldn’t help but feel a bit suspicious hearing his straightforward agreement: "Really?"
"Of course."
Harry Hunter looked down at the little darling in his arms: "What, don’t tell me you’re disappointed that I said we’d each bathe separately?"
Isabella hurriedly replied: "Of course not!"
Harry chuckled: "Alright, not disappointed."
He carried Isabella into the bedroom and went to the bathroom to prepare her bath.
Even though Isabella had been to the bedroom before dinner, she was too busy tangled up with Harry to notice that there were now quite a few roses in the room.
On the balcony, on the bedside cabinet, on the table, even in the wardrobe, there were flowers everywhere!
She ran into the bathroom barefoot and saw roses on the sink, while Harry was standing next to the bathtub, scattering rose petals into it!
Seeing her enter, Harry put down the rose branch and picked her up: "Why aren’t you wearing shoes, the tiles in the bathroom are cold."
Isabella gazed at him, speechless for a long moment.
Harry sat on the edge of the bathtub, letting Isabella sit on his lap, tenderly brushing her cheek and softly asking: "Why are you staring at me, don’t recognize me?"
"When did you buy the flowers?"
"I had them delivered this afternoon, they’re all fresh, you can have a petal bath."
"Why buy so many?"
"Didn’t you say you wanted to see flowers everywhere? It’s such a small dream of my wife’s, I can definitely fulfill it."
Isabella couldn’t help but touch his face, feeling a surge of emotion as tears threatened to fall.
She casually mentioned it, and he remembered it, then made it happen for her.
All her past suffering and sadness seemed so insignificant, he gently healed all her wounds and immersed her in immense happiness.
Harry bent down and kissed her softly, his tone tender: "The bath water is ready for you, soak for a while, but not too long."
As he spoke, he started to unbutton Isabella’s shirt.
Isabella quickly held his hand: "I’ll do it myself!"
"Okay."
Harry didn’t insist, his little wife was so young and always bashful; he wasn’t in a hurry.
There’s a long life ahead.
She’s only nineteen.
He has a lifetime to explore.
The door closed, Isabella dipped her fingers into the water, testing it; the temperature was just right, and the petals were beautiful.
She removed her clothes and stepped into the bathtub.
The warm water enveloped her, covered with her favorite rose petals, and she sighed contently: "This is wonderful!"
The bath bombs in the tub quickly formed numerous bubbles, hiding Isabella’s body.
She turned on the flat-screen TV next to the bathtub, music began to play, and a girl group danced energetically.
Lying in the bathtub, watching the dances, listening to songs, in just over ten minutes, Isabella drifted off to sleep.
In her haze, she felt someone caressing her body.
That hand was burning hot, moving from her foot upwards, the calf, the thigh, and then...
Isabella suddenly jolted awake, meeting Harry’s deep and restrained gaze.
His hair was damp, obviously having just taken a bath, the scent of shower gel clung to him, and it was quite pleasant.
Just as she was about to speak, Harry’s kiss descended, swallowing all her words.