Substitute Bride: Utterly Pampered by Her Billionaire Husband-Chapter 1315: Did You Hurt Your Hand?

Willow Crawford ignored him, walking her own path.

At that moment, a dazzling blue sports car sped up and stopped beside Willow. A wealthy second-generation man wearing sunglasses rolled down the window and whistled at Willow, "Little sister, where are you headed? Let me give you a ride."

Willow furrowed her brows slightly, and just then, a large hand rested on her shoulder, gently pulling her into an embrace.

Willow looked up; it was Miles Linden.

Miles had one hand in his pocket and the other around Willow. His icy phoenix eyes glanced indifferently at the wealthy guy in the sports car, then he parted his thin lips, "She’s my girlfriend. Whatever you want to say, say it to me directly."

Girlfriend?

Upon hearing those three words, the wealthy second-generation drove off in his sports car, realizing the beauty was already taken.

Those words, "girlfriend", made Willow’s eyes widen in surprise. She wasn’t accepting his unilateral announcement of "girlfriend". Willow broke free from his embrace and stepped aside defensively. "Miles, since when did I become your girlfriend? Don’t say things recklessly and ruin my reputation!"

Miles watched her resistance and evasion, a flicker of malice passed through his eyes, though he concealed it and remained calm on the surface, "Willow, you’re talking about reputation now, but who nodded and accepted the bet a couple of days ago, saying they’d date me if I won?"

Whenever this topic came up, Willow got upset. He was such a good actor, even the Oscars owed him a golden statue. "That doesn’t count."

"You say it doesn’t count, but in my heart, it does. From now on, you’re my girlfriend, you’re mine," Miles declared domineeringly.

Willow’s face turned red with both shyness and annoyance. "Miles, you’re such a big liar! I don’t want to talk to you!"

After speaking, Willow promptly walked away.

Miles watched her graceful figure, his eyes darkening.

Willow went looking for Vivi Xavier, who was at the front of the alley on the phone. As Willow was about to walk over, a large hand reached over, grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her, swiftly dragging her into the alley.

The alley was dark. Willow was about to scream, but the large hand covered her mouth.

"Don’t scream." A familiar, deep voice sounded near her ear.

This voice was deeper than usual, carrying a slight hoarseness, like that transition between a teenage boy and a man, magnetic yet dangerous.

It was Miles.

Willow looked up at Miles; in the dark, his gaze on her was both hot and blazing, as if he had stripped away some facade, staring at her openly.

Willow’s heart pounded fiercely. She had never seen this side of Miles; clearly, he was still him, yet he seemed different.

This version of him frightened her.

"Don’t scream, alright?" he repeated.

Willow quickly nodded, indicating she wouldn’t scream anymore.

Only then did Miles release her.

Once free, Willow didn’t say a word and ran away.

She wanted to leave this place.

The dark alley, and him staring at her like that, all indicated danger.

She just wanted to leave.

But who was Miles anyway? He’d already sensed her intention to escape. He reached out, wrapped his arm around her slender waist and pulled her back, easily pushing her against the wall.

"Miles, what are you doing? Let me go, or I’ll scream for help!" Willow extended her small hand to push him.

Miles remained unmovable, he was already like a wall, trapping the girl within his embrace. "I’m not afraid. Scream if you want. Many people will come to watch, and then they’ll all know... you’re mine!"

Just what he wanted—all eyes on them, so no man would ever want her again.

In the future, his name would be etched on her forever, never letting her go.

Willow didn’t fully understand his thoughts, but she sensed his bad intentions and was furious. She raised her hand to slap his handsome face.

Smack.

The sound of a crisp slap echoed. Miles didn’t dodge; he let her slap him.

Willow’s fingers trembled.

Miles showed no expression. She had slapped him before—a young girl’s strength was only so much, even hitting his face felt like a flirtatious gesture; he didn’t feel any pain, instead found it somewhat charming.

How many men could be slapped by Willow Crawford?

Miles turned his face back from the hit, staring at her.

His gaze flickered dangerously, but Willow didn’t regret it, for he was acting like such a jerk.

"Did your hand hurt from the slap?" he suddenly asked.

He asked her if her hand hurt?

Though Willow didn’t regret hitting him, she thought he would be very angry, yet unexpectedly, he wasn’t; he asked her about the pain in her hand.

Just then, Miles grasped her hand—she had made her own little hand red.

Damn... pitiful.

Miles lowered his head, his cool lips landed on her little hand.

He kissed her hand, starting with the palm, then her slender white fingers, one by one.

Willow’s lashes trembled, like a butterfly flapping its wings in panic. What was he doing?

He actually kissed her fingers!

His lips were cool, the kiss was fiery; Willow felt as if her hand was seared.

She instantly pulled her hand back.

Miles looked up at her, "Don’t want me to kiss?"

Willow instinctively hid her hands behind her, "Miles, are you insane!"

Miles’ gaze traveled down from her watery eyes, finally landing on her red lips. His throat bobbed, he said, "Then can I kiss somewhere else, okay?"

What did he want to do?

Willow retreated, trying to escape, but she’d forgotten she was backed against the wall. Just then, her vision went dark. The elegant and handsome boy suddenly bent down, cupping her small face in his large hands, his long fingers threading through her hair as he kissed her red lips directly.

He kissed her.

At that moment.

Willow’s mind went blank, momentarily forgetting to think.

He actually...

A few seconds later, Willow came to her senses, her small hands pressed against his chest, beginning to push and punch, "Let go... Miles..."

Her resistance was intense. Miles always thought she was soft and tender, even when she slapped him it felt like flirting, but this time her resistance was fierce, struggling in his embrace.

Soon, he felt a pain at his neck; turns out her nails had scratched a wound there.

Just from a kiss, if... if in the future...

Miles felt as though fiery embers rolled through his throat; he couldn’t deny the pain at his neck incited his hot blood.

At this moment, he had many thoughts, many dark scenes.

Now, something wet flowed into his mouth; Willow had started crying.