Mary Scott lifted her head and met David Locke's handsome face, which hadn't yet managed to hide its smile. Her heart skipped a beat, feeling like he was taking the chance to flirt with her.
"What kind of look is that?" David Locke met Mary Scott's curious gaze and asked with raised eyebrows.
Mary Scott quickly averted her eyes, muttering that it was nothing, intending to call the doctor, but David Locke grabbed her hand. She looked at him, puzzled, "What are you doing?"
"If you want to look, then look openly. I don't mind. If necessary, I can cooperate," David Locke said with a serious expression.
At first, Mary Scott didn't quite grasp what the man meant until her gaze landed on his loosely tied bathrobe, revealing a hint of his well-defined chest.
Due to his leg injury, Martin sent him a long bathrobe yesterday, so at least he didn't have to take off pants anymore. But the problem was this person started treating the hospital room as a hotel, becoming more and more casual.
