little master

23.

I leaned against the bedside and played with my phone for a while, explained what happened to my company friends, and set a time for the next meeting. I put away my phone.

He moved, as if he was disturbed by my movement, he arched into my arms reluctantly, and put his legs together restlessly.

I guess he may have regarded me as a pillow at the head of the bed, but it should be rare to find a pillow as restless as me, so he didn't sleep well in his dream, and he might still be thinking, what's the matter with this pillow, a little bit Also not obedient.

I was amused by my brain supply, afraid of waking him up, I didn't dare to move my hands and feet, so I just half-lyed and hugged him.

Lying idle with nothing to do, I stared at the ceiling for a long time, and then my eyes moved to the young master's face.

Before that, I didn't have such an opportunity to approach him without any scruples. He is very defensive and can only be touched by surprise, and most of my surprises are to fight wits with him, either to pick him up and go to the bathroom, or Putting on his seat belt while he was not paying attention, let alone coaxing him to eat, forget it, since we met now, this is the first time I stared at him openly.

There is a secret joy of a miser secretly hiding in the basement at night and counting money.

Because I know in my heart that when he is awake, I will never have such a chance.

I can only see his profile in this position.

His skin is very fair, and he dazzled me when we met for the first time. His eyes were red just now, just like a vampire in a movie I watched before.But the vampire is too cold, the young master is warm, warm and warm, hugging him like a small stove, can always be ironed to the bottom of his heart.

The eyelashes are also quite long, like a small fan, which flutters up and down when I blink, and I can't help but want to touch it, but unfortunately he would definitely get angry if he did so under normal circumstances, so I never had time.

However, now is a good opportunity.

He fell asleep.

I looked at his face with a guilty conscience, kept this posture still, and listened attentively. His breathing was still steady, so my mind became active.

Afraid of waking him up, I stretched out my hand cautiously, stopped a little closer, and moved forward mechanically. When I finally touched his eyelashes, I felt that my arm was no different from a robot.

Before I touched him, I cautiously glanced at him again to make sure he wasn't awake, so I boldly flipped his "little fan" with my index finger.

In fact, it feels nothing to the touch. I blame my rough skin and thick flesh. I guess the nerves of the fingertips have been worn out and have lost their sensitivity.

But this kind of behavior itself brought me a great sense of satisfaction, and the momentary comfort in my heart was incomparable to mere physical contact.

Unable to hold back for a moment, I tapped again at the original spot, and then moved my fingertips down to poke his cheek.

As soon as I clicked, I saw his eyelids move, as if he was about to wake up, I immediately withdrew my hand and pretended nothing happened.

Unexpectedly, he just moved, he didn't fully wake up, he tilted his head and fell asleep again.

I breathed a sigh of relief, twirled my fingers, recalled the touch just now, and after a while, my heart suddenly moved.