The man had many scratches on his body. When Delphine removed his loose shirt and saw the scars covering his chest, all traces of shyness disappeared instantly, her gaze softened with a hint of reluctance.
Lowering her small face, she used a warm towel to gently wipe the man's neck and asked softly, "Does it hurt?"
"It doesn't." Ignatius Leclair closed his eyes and replied tenderly. As long as she and the two children were unharmed, no matter how severe the injuries, they wouldn't hurt.
Delphine's movements were so delicate they were almost imperceptible. Her subtle breaths brushed against the man's bare torso, and Ignatius felt the areas where she touched him tighten. Having the woman he liked so close, close enough to catch the fragrance of her hair, was the sweetest torture in the world. Ignatius inwardly lamented—it hurt, but he couldn't be happier.
