His warm breath washed over Holly Winslow's face, making her blush. She grabbed Mortimer Quincy's wandering hands. "Not here."
Seeing she had agreed, a triumphant smile played on Mortimer Quincy's lips. He swept her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom.
Holly Winslow had already prepared herself for what was to come. That scoundrel Mortimer Quincy had even taken off his clothes, but then he suddenly stopped, got up, and left the bedroom.
She was left speechless.
He quickly returned and handed her his phone. "Honey, call Dad and tell him you've gone to bed." After speaking, he gave her a kiss, his eyes thick with desire.
He added, "I'm traumatized."
Holly was speechless.
She called Wyatt Winslow. When the call connected, she said guiltily, "Dad."
"Mm." Wyatt Winslow's voice came through the phone, sounding a bit hoarse.
Sensing something was wrong, Holly immediately sat up and asked worriedly, "Dad, do you have a cold?"
