"The Duchess's eyes are so clean, she seems to be able to speak."

"The Duchess is pretty and cute, she looks so good, I, I think..."

Tu Mianmian: "..." No, you have nothing to think about.

Tu Mianmian turned his head, Sivir was sitting on the sofa with his eyes closed, the evening sun slanted on his face, and Tu Mianmian saw his frown.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Tu Mianmian approached to ask, but was subconsciously grabbed by the wrist of Sivir, who had an excess of fighting consciousness.

When he opened his eyes, Sivir's eyes were out of focus for a moment, and quickly refocused.

The hand he was holding was extremely hot, but Tu Mianmian didn't struggle and sat down beside him, "Your skin is so hot."

He asked with concern, "Are you sick?"

After all, Tu Mianmian was still very concerned about the object the empire had just assigned to him.

Sivir looked at him without speaking, the emerald green pupil color gradually became darker, "..."

Tu Mianmian also looked back at him: "..."

Sivir: "..."

Tu Mianmian: "?"

The two announced their failure to make eye contact. Seeing that Tu Mianmian's eyes gradually became confused, Sivir pursed his lips.

His fingertips rubbed Tu Mianmian's wrist, and the small piece of white tender skin quickly stained with his temperature.

Butler Anderson, who came out of the kitchen, was about to report on the progress of the dinner, but was stunned when he saw this scene.

After receiving the questioning glance from Tu Mianmian, Anderson smiled slightly: "It's okay, Madam, you can help His Royal Highness the Duke."

Tu Mianmian said: don't understand what you are talking about.

But soon, Tu Mianmian understood what kind of "help" it was.

Due to the situation of the Duke getting out of control, and getting out of control more and more, the carefully prepared dinner was forced to be hastily resolved, and the battle between Sivir and Tu Mianmian was moved to the bedroom.

In the Duke's bedroom, the bathroom was steaming.

Tu Mianmian's hair was still slightly moist. He sat on the edge of the wide and soft bed, with a blank expression on his face, pinching the corner of his clothes absentmindedly.

The words "Lord Duke's hair. Emotions. Heat" rumbled over in his head, and then rumbled over again. It's normal to read each word separately, but reading it together is so frightening that his rabbit's tail is about to pop out.

"Mianmian." The low hoarse voice close to his ear startled Tu Mianmian.

Tu Mianmian came back to his senses, looked up and found that it was Sivir who had come out of the bathroom.

The light in the bedroom is directly controlled by the light brain, and it is no longer bright under Sivir's adjustment, it is ambiguous and dim.

Tu Mianmian felt a little uneasy in her heart, and stammered: "I'm here, what, what's wrong..."

The unfamiliar masculine hood pulled down, Sivir hugged Tu Mianmian, his hoarse voice tortured by physiological reactions had a different kind of sexiness.

He let out a soft sigh: "Help me..."

In the middle of the night, the bedroom finally stopped, and the silence returned.

A white arm stuck out from the quilt, and pitifully grabbed the corner of the pillow, with the words grievance written on the tip of her pale pink finger.

Tu Mianmian buried half of her face in the pillow and sighed silently in her man's arms.

Ugh.

once married

giants

husband……

The bitterness must be tasted.

The author has something to say: #small theater#

Mianmian: You have to taste, you have to taste, you have to taste...

Lord Duke: Have you tasted it?

author:? I suspect you are driving and have evidence!

chapter 2

The next day, when it was just dawn, Sivir woke up under the influence of the biological clock.

After the difficult hair, estrus, heat, feel refreshed and physical condition has returned to its peak state.

Tu Mianmian lying in his arms was wrapped in a quilt and slept soundly. The Duke spent two minutes hesitating, and finally decided not to wake Tu Mianmian. He lay back down and continued to sleep with Tu Mianmian.

Duke Sivir's first sleep-in experience ended at the call of Mr. Butler two hours later.

Sivir had never been so careful when facing the enemy's assassination. He pulled his arm from the back of Tu Mianmian's neck, and Anderson was waiting for him in the corridor outside the bedroom.

"How is Your Highness's body? Are there any sequelae of ecstasy? Do I need to take medicine?" Anderson asked repeatedly, and every pore on his face was filled with seriousness and caution.

Speaking of hair, passion, heat, Sivir couldn't help but think of the situation last night. He was fascinated for a moment, and then he lowered his head and folded his cuffs to cover up his exposed emotions, "No need."

"Yeah." Anderson supported his unilateral glasses and nodded cautiously, "I believe that His Royal Highness does not need the assistance of drugs."

"Then your Highness and Madam will come downstairs for breakfast." Anderson resumed his full smile.

He looked up and down the strong Sivir, and the old man said cheerfully, "Madame must have worked hard. I asked the kitchen to prepare a lot of healthy food for the lady."

Sivir: "..."

Sivir left Mr. Butler behind and pushed the door into the bedroom.

Tu Mianmian, who lost the warmth of the person beside her pillow, turned over and continued to sleep with her back to Sivir.

Half of his face was buried in the soft quilt, his hair was messy sleeping, and there was a tuft of hair on top of his head. There is not much flesh on the cheeks, but it is inexplicably soft.

Sivir sat on the edge of the bed and stared at Tu Mianmian's side face for a long time before reaching out and patted his back hesitantly, "Mianmian..."

Maybe it was because he shouted a lot last night. He called Tu Mianmian's name with a familiar tone.

Sivir thought it would be difficult for Tu Mianmian to wake up, but unexpectedly, Tu Mianmian woke up quickly after a call.