Addicted After Marriage: Marrying My Abstinent Boss-Chapter 189: My First Love Girlfriend

"Alright, stop crying. I’ll help you fix your makeup." Ethan Sinclair released her, gently leading her.

"You know how to apply makeup?"

Hugh Irving was both overjoyed and tearful, wiping the tears off her smudged face.

A man like him knows how to apply makeup?

Somewhat effeminate.

"I don’t, but I can learn. You know, I pick things up pretty quickly in any field." Ethan Sinclair smiled, leading her to the vanity.

She smiled silently, having grown accustomed to Ethan Sinclair’s shameless way of speaking.

She obediently sat on the chair, feeling heavy-hearted.

What a day it’s been!

Hugh Irving sat in the chair, looking at the information Sophia Lowell had sent her about the man from earlier.

The pup Mrs. Irving raised was just an ordinary working guy, made into a small model by Mrs. Irving’s embellishments, mingling with some socialites in the industry, and today he came to the wedding with The Fair Lady.

Hugh Irving glanced at it, frowning slightly.

"Focus." Ethan Sinclair leaned against the dressing table, lifting her chin.

Only then did Hugh Irving notice Ethan Sinclair was using a powder puff to fix her makeup.

Her eyes, bright and clear, raised to look at him.

His fingers were hot, regardless if they were inside or outside her body.

You could say he looked youthful, yet sometimes he seemed like a grown man; say he’s mature, and yet he could be quite childish.

With a smooth, tender face, he could switch from gentle to fierce at will.

At times, Hugh Irving really couldn’t see through him.

No wonder Zane Sterling and Sophia Lowell often called him the strategist; it wasn’t just empty talk.

Hugh Irving watched him intently.

"Ethan Sinclair, how many girlfriends have you had?"

Ethan Sinclair chuckled, "I learned all my knowledge from books, don’t label me wrongly."

"So you’ve never had a girlfriend?" Hugh Irving was very curious.

This young man, at his age, was not short of beautiful women around him, competent and good-looking.

Before they got together, she often heard Sophia Lowell mention how others called him Young Master Sinclair.

Yet, he never seemed to be interested.

"Professor Irving, you are my first love. I’m begging you, please don’t hurt me."

Ethan Sinclair stopped his hand’s movement humbly, putting the powder puff aside.

Then, he took out a lipstick from Hugh Irving’s bag.

Hugh Irving’s heart twinged.

She felt a bit sad inside.

She feared she might hurt Ethan Sinclair.

Although Ethan Sinclair was nonchalant, and she was just living in the moment, mutually benefiting from their agreement, she didn’t consider marriage part of it.

Ethan Sinclair knew this.

And he didn’t care.

But that’s precisely what made her feel sad.

If one day she got triggered and left, it wouldn’t be fair to Ethan Sinclair.

Especially now, she didn’t understand what marriage was ultimately for.

There were plenty of cases around her with happy marriages, like Sophia Lowell now, Zane Sterling’s parents...

But there were also many counterexamples.

Like Annie, and her own parents...

Who can guarantee there’ll be someone who truly loves you for a lifetime?

"Professor Irving, I advise you not to overthink. Overthinking makes you sad; people should focus on happiness first. We’re very happy now, and you should look ahead, look here, look at me!"

Ethan Sinclair pinched her chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him.

He said, "A handsome guy like me standing in front of you, thinking about other men, isn’t that a little cruel to me?"

Her eyes welled with tears, glistening, but she didn’t cry, just her eyes turned red.

But Ethan Sinclair saw through her, "You have no burdens with me. If I ever do something unworthy of you, you don’t even have to do anything. Sophia would be the first to kill me."

Hugh Irving pursed her lips.

Ethan Sinclair truly knew how to pull people out of their negativity.

He wasn’t wrong.

It’s also thanks to Ethan Sinclair; if it were another man, she really wouldn’t be interested.

Ethan Sinclair seriously applied the lipstick on her, his fingers gently smudging it on her lips.

"This lipstick suits you." Ethan Sinclair’s eyes darkened.

"Hmm, it’s quite moist." Hugh Irving still had her head tilted back, eyes fixed on Ethan Sinclair’s godly face.

This lipstick was a gift from Ethan Sinclair, part of a collection of twenty-four, each named after a solar term. This one was Summer Solstice, watermelon red with a watermelon flavor.

"My lips are pretty dry, can I try it?" Ethan Sinclair looked at her intently.

Without hesitation, Hugh Irving said, "Of course, you can..."

Before she finished, Ethan Sinclair leaned down, merging his lips with hers.

So, was this what he meant by trying?

Hugh Irving was indeed taken aback by him.

His eyes, moist, glimmered with a warm light, like a sacred, magical lake, mysterious and passionate.

Kissed by him, Hugh Irving felt her heart tighten, her palms sweating, stupefied on the spot.

His well-defined fingers tugged at his tie, loosening it.

Hugh Irving dared not continue like this here, gently pushing Ethan Sinclair away.

Ethan Sinclair cradled her head, not letting her move, his voice gravelly, "Not moist enough..."

His warm lips pressed against hers, plundering at will.

Hugh Irving barely had a chance to catch her breath; Ethan Sinclair would slow down just as she was about to suffocate, then seamlessly continue once she’d steadied herself.

It was unclear how long had passed when a rustling noise came from outside the unmade dressing room door.

Only then did Ethan Sinclair release his breath.

The two seemed to fall into an inescapable space, only finding relief once they were pulled back from the brink of drowning by fresh air.

Ethan Sinclair stood behind her, combing her chaotic hair.

Hugh Irving hurriedly reapplied the lipstick, already smudged earlier by his ardent caresses.

The dressing room door opened, and Nathan Jennings walked in.

She had just exchanged rings with Clay Gable and came back to touch up her makeup and change into her dress, preparing to toast.

Coming in, she sensed the odd atmosphere but couldn’t show it.

"Hugh Irving, are you okay?" Nathan Jennings sat in the makeup chair beside her.

The makeup team followed her in to start touching her up.

"I’m fine." Hugh Irving replied, blushing.

Ethan Sinclair didn’t feel anything amiss; he just hadn’t completely cooled down, so he stood behind Hugh Irving. If he left now, there was no telling if others might notice his uncontrollable excitement.

"Oh."

Nathan Jennings noticed Ethan Sinclair’s skewed tie, unsure what they had just done here, she dared not speculate.

She didn’t make a sound, sitting quietly for her touch-up.

Not long after today, she might encounter that kind of scene, thinking about it made her body heat up.

She touched the corner of her lips, her cheeks hotter than a stove.

Just now, when Clay Gable kissed her, her heart jumped to her throat, his hand still lingered on her side, the scorching warmth of his embrace.

Ah—

She felt her brain’s contents being kissed away.

What consciousness was, she no longer remembered.

Whatever the emcee said, she didn’t fully catch.

She only heard Clay Gable say, "Thank you."

Thank you for what?

What’s the meaning?

The more she thought, the more her cheeks burned.

By then, three knocks came from the door, and Sophia Lowell entered.