I coldly watched as he kissed me again and reminded him. "This is the master bedroom."
Sure enough, the lust on Vincent's face slowly faded.
For five years, although I was his girlfriend by name, I never had the right to sleep in his master bedroom.
To be precise, I had never even touched his bed.
In the past, he was afraid Mrs. Cross would find out about our relationship and pressure us into an early marriage and children.
So, I naively helped him keep it a secret.
As Vincent eagerly lifted me out of the master bedroom, Mrs. Cross suddenly came downstairs.
"Vincent, you two..."
Facing Mrs. Cross's scrutinizing and questioning gaze, Vincent, without a hint of embarrassment, blamed her.
"Mom, why don't you make a sound when you walk? Diana twisted her ankle and you suddenly came out without even worrying about scaring her..."
He held me tightly, subtly signaling me to cooperate.
Taking this opportunity, I struggled and jumped down. To my surprise, I really twisted my ankle.
Vincent looked at the cold sweat beading on my forehead and subtly gave me a thumbs-up.
Mrs. Cross, with a thoughtful look, watched her son busying himself for me, as if she wanted to say something but held back.