Substitute Bride: Utterly Pampered by Her Billionaire Husband-Chapter 1238: Are You Messing With Me?

Dianna Hollis was startled for a moment. This man had always been quite the beast, never suppressing his desires. Whenever he wanted to be close to her, he would look at her this way.

Was he thinking of something?

At this moment, Mort Thorne spoke, "I’m going to take a shower."

After saying this, he turned around.

As the man walked into the bathroom, his right hand rested on his belt. With a swift and easy motion of his thumb and forefinger, he undone it and tossed it casually onto the sofa.

The smooth and carefree motion was so handsome it was explosive.

Dianna’s small face blushed even more, it seemed she was captivated by him!

...

The sound of rushing water came from the bathroom. Dianna stood in the sunlight for a while, cooling down her flushed face.

The room was hot, filled with ambiguous vibes.

She felt hot all over, stirred up by him.

Once her face cooled down a bit, she returned to the room and poured herself a glass of warm water.

She brought the glass to her lips, intending to drink. Just then, the bathroom door opened with a "click," letting out a refreshing chill after the shower.

Dianna looked up; in front of her was a mirror that perfectly reflected him.

Mort had finished showering, his short hair wet and sticking to his forehead, his body exuding a damp aura.

He wore the hotel’s white bathrobe, the belt tied loosely, revealing most of his muscular chest.

His physique was strikingly impressive, setting one’s blood racing. Dianna saw his well-developed pectoral muscles and the hint of eight-pack abs.

She quickly withdrew her gaze, not daring to look any longer.

At this moment, a steady sound of footsteps could be heard in her ear, the man walked over and stopped behind her.

He blocked her in, trapping her between his chest and the counter.

He seemed to enjoy standing silently behind her.

Dianna quickly took a few sips of water.

"I’m thirsty, let me have a sip," said the man from behind.

"Okay," Dianna handed him the glass in her hand.

Mort didn’t reach out to take it. He lowered his head directly, finishing the remaining water from the cup that was in her small hands in one gulp.

Gone.

"Still not satisfied." He looked into her eyes.

"Then I’ll pour you some more."

Dianna continued to pour water.

But a rough, broad hand reached over, snatched the cup from her small hands, and a strong arm wrapped around her waist, twisting her around.

"Deliberate?"

He asked hoarsely, bending down to seal her red lips.

Mm.

Suddenly being kissed, Dianna’s clear pupils contract repeatedly. She hadn’t understood the meaning of "deliberate" before he kissed her.

He kissed with a storm-like intensity, forcefully plundering her breath.

Dianna hadn’t been kissed by him in a long time, and facing such a frenzied attack, her legs went weak.

But the man’s large hand timely clasped her slender waist, gently lifting her to sit on the counter.

She was petite, sitting this way made her taller than him by a bit.

He furrowed his handsome brow, continuing to deepen the kiss.

"Mort Thorne, don’t be like this..."

Dianna, like a small fish almost drowning, used the last bit of her reason to turn her head persistently, not letting him kiss her.

"Mort Thorne, don’t bully me. I invited you tonight for a serious discussion..."

"Talk about what? I’d rather... do... than talk," the man chuckled hoarsely.

What did he say?

Dianna raised her small fists and pounded them against him, "Don’t forget your position, you’re a director now!"

He’s not like this, fierce and restrained outside.

"Quit the nonsense!" Mort kissed her small face while tearing at her clothes, "I’m so pent up it’s going to waste me away."

"..."

Dianna just remembered what those girls in the bar said about him, military men don’t see women for long periods.

Some have families in the military compound; it’s different. He, without a wife, only sees men.

Mort pulled for a while but couldn’t get it off because today she wasn’t wearing a long dress.

Tonight, Dianna wore a white baby-doll top with lantern sleeves, paired with a light-colored denim suspender skirt. The skirt’s straps hung on her delicate shoulders, beneath the wave lines of her chest. The loose and trendy suspender denim skirt also appeared very youthful.

Tonight, she also tied her long, beautiful hair up into a bun, making her look like she had just turned eighteen.

Mort knitted his steady brow into a tight frown, his long fingers tugging at her straps, "Are you teasing me, wearing this kind of thing?"

Dianna called out softly with a delicate voice, grasping her straps to pull them back from his fingers. She was pushed to the brink, her bright eyes turning with a black sheen, "What’s wrong with dressing like this? You’re just out of fashion, no taste!"

Even pregnant women wear suspenders. Recently, she’s been dressing very casually and loosely, nothing wrong with that.

Listening to her words, Mort raised a heroic brow. He was accustomed to seeing all sorts of women dressed in cool and sexy styles, but rarely did he see this kind of innocent, cute style.

He and she naturally had a significant age gap, and now with her dressing this way, she could indeed be his daughter.

Mort compressed his thin lips, "Don’t wear this again."

"I don’t want to, I’ll dress how I like!" Dianna refused.

Though she loved him, she wouldn’t lose herself. He had quite a few demands: no skirts above the knee, no going home too late, no smiling at strange men.

She barely agreed to the last two, but as for how she dresses, no way.

She’s young, should dress as beautiful as she can to dazzle him completely.

She just loved seeing his stunned expression, clearly liking it yet telling her not to wear it.

Not only would she wear it, but she’d also dress up Dotty with matching mother-daughter princess dresses.

She wanted to see who this older man truly favored?

That would be fun to see.

If her belly held a little Mort, they’d play with guns and be cool with their dad. A man like Mort, being a dad, his dad-power would certainly be overwhelming.

"Not listening, huh?" Mort frowned.

Dianna lifted her little head, pouting her red lips at him, "I’m not your secretary, why should I listen to you?"

Secretary?

Mort detected a strong hint of jealousy in those three words, releasing her straps, his long fingers lifting her chin, "You’ve seen my secretary?"

"No, but I’ve heard her voice, so sweet. I bet she’s a fair-skinned, beautiful, long-legged beauty."

Mort smirked, almost reminiscing, "Hmm, my secretary does seem... quite pretty."

He actually said another woman was pretty?!