Chapter 1476

[ 708 words ]

Lorelei stared at him quietly, not quite grasping the full weight of his words.

“I don’t snore, and I don’t grind my teeth,” Harold said, his voice dropping an octave. “The bed is huge. If we take half each, we shouldn’t disturb one another.”

Lorelei took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the shopping bag, her heart doing somersaults in her chest.

Did this mean they were actually going to share a bed tonight?

“If it bothers you, I can take the floor,” Harold offered, noticing her hesitation.

The floor?

Lorelei cast a glance at the ground. It was still storming outside, which meant the floor was cold and damp. He definitely couldn’t sleep down there.

“Okay,” she finally nodded after a few seconds of agonizing deliberation. “But I might…”

“?” Harold waited for her to finish.

“I might do some weird things,” Lorelei admitted, rubbing her nose in acute embarrassment. “I talk in my sleep.”

“Mm.” Harold was amused by her adorable awkwardness. The corners of his lips twitched as he drawled, “As long as you don’t try to murder me in the middle of the night, we’re fine.”

Lorelei’s cheeks flared bright red, and she muttered under her breath, “I don’t even know if I would.”

After all, she had never had anyone sleep next to her to verify.

“The water is ready. Call me when you’re done,” Harold said, carrying Lorelei into the bathroom. “Do you need any help?”

“N-no!” Lorelei bit her bottom lip, shaking her head vigorously.

“Alright.” Harold didn’t go far, choosing to wait right outside the bathroom door.

The sound of splashing water echoed continuously from inside…

It left Harold feeling deeply unsettled, his thoughts spiraling out of control.

He had to go pour himself a glass of ice water just to suppress the inexplicable, rising heat in his chest.

When he returned, Lorelei’s voice drifted out from the bathroom. “Dr. Houston, I’m done.”

“Okay.” Harold’s nerves pulled taut. He steadied his breathing and pushed the door open.

Lorelei was sitting on the stool. She was wearing the pajamas, but had completely swathed herself in the accompanying robe, wrapped up tighter than a burrito.

“What’s wrong?” Seeing her head bowed, Harold asked in confusion. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” Lorelei lied, pulling the robe even tighter around herself.

Harold didn’t press the issue. He carried her back to the bed and deliberately turned the AC temperature up a few degrees.

“I’m going to take a shower. If you’re tired, just go to sleep,” Harold instructed before disappearing into the bathroom.

Lorelei leaned against the headboard. As the room temperature steadily climbed, beads of sweat began to form on her forehead.

Once she was certain Harold wasn’t coming out anytime soon, she hurriedly stripped off the thick robe and dove beneath the covers like a slippery fish.

This way, Harold wouldn’t notice just how “breezy” her sleepwear actually was.

She had no idea who had picked it out, but it was pure silk, consisting of a microscopic camisole and a sheer outer robe.

It was a soft lotus pink that clung perfectly to her skin, making it look as though she were wearing nothing at all.

When Harold stepped out of the bathroom, he found Lorelei huddled entirely under the heavy duvet, with only the top half of her head peeking out.

She was obviously sweltering—her cheeks were flushed bright red, and her forehead was damp with sweat.

“Are you that cold?” Harold casually toweled his hair dry as he walked over to her side of the bed, pressing his palm against her forehead. “Lorelei, are you feeling sick?”

The AC was blasting warmth; there was no way she could still be cold.

“No,” Lorelei shook her head, her voice slightly muffled. “I’m fine.”

“If you’re fine, then why is your face so red?” Harold cupped her cheek, noticing that her skin wasn’t just burning up, she was also breaking out in a cold sweat.

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“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he declared, immediately reaching down to throw

back the covers and scoop her up.

“N-no, you don’t need to!” Lorelei

panicked, clutching the duvet in a

death grip, her face cycling rapidly

between pale and crimson. “I’m completely fine, don’t needia hospital!

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Harold stared down at her. If she was fine, why was her voice shaking so badly?

She must be delirious from a fever!

“Be good!” Harold’s tone softened significantly, but the strength in his hands didn’t yield an inch.

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