When He Called Me Tool，I Pounced The Incubus Crush

Chapter 4

Interestingly, he kept trailing behind me at a distance of about one meter.

Every time I turned to look at him, he'd quickly avert his gaze, standing there stiffly, not even moving forward.

I looked down and typed on my phone。

Elena: ?

Winston: Where to?

Elena: My place. You coming?

He was typing for a full minute.

Winston: Okay.

Elena: If I do something to you, will you say no?

Winston: I know you just want to feed. I understand. You've had it tough too.

I couldn't help laughing—what exactly was this guy telling himself?

And so, one after the other, we arrived at the one-bedroom apartment I rented off campus.

The moment he stepped inside, I spun around and pinned him against the door. I grabbed his chin, my eyes gleaming. "Now that you're in a vampire's den, don't even think about escaping."

It had been three days since my last meal. After tasting the good stuff, those nutrient supplements just felt bland and unsatisfying.

He seemed caught off guard by my move. He froze for a second, pressed his thin lips together, and gently removed my hand. "Don't mess around."

Then he pulled out the neatly washed little piece of fabric from his backpack. "Here. This is yours."

The familiar scent of laundry detergent triggered something in my memory. And the bullet-screen comments filled me in.

A: [Sometimes when the female lead stays overnight at the male lead's apartment, her clothes in the hamper are thrown into the washer by the second male lead. And as for her intimates—well, he hand-washes them and hangs them out to dry.]

B: [As for whether he does anything else before washing them... who knows? Hahaha.]

I'm the forgetful type. I usually don't do laundry until the next day. And whenever I stayed at Dorian's place, my clothes from the day before would always be washed and hung on the balcony, smelling fresh.

I always assumed Dorian did it. Never expected it to be him.

I set the little fabric aside, rose on my tiptoes, and leaned in close, my warm breath ghosting over his lips.

"I've got all kinds of lacy little things, you know. How about you wash them all for me from now on? For example, today's one has a strawberry pattern. Wanna see?"

His breath hitched sharply. Clutching onto the last shred of reason, he pressed himself back against the door, trying to keep distance. "Don't... If you want to use me to make Dorian jealous, I can play along once. You don't have to sacrifice yourself."

"What?" I raised an eyebrow. "I told you. I don't like him anymore."

His eyes lit up. He asked cautiously, "So that means... you two broke up?"

...

Silence is golden.

Actually, no—I'd been so preoccupied with him lately that I forgot to actually tell Dorian we were done.

Right then, the doorbell rang.

A delivery guy's voice came through. "Hello, a bouquet of flowers from Mr. Dorian Smith for Miss Elena Carters. He asked me to wish you a happy Valentine's Day."

The romantic mood shattered.

Now that's a huge misunderstanding. The flowers were ninety-nine fiery red roses, dazzling and seductive.

Winston thanked the delivery guy, lowered his eyes, and set them on the table. His cheeks, which had been flushed pink, now turned pale. "I'm sorry. I don't know why you did all that to me. But I won't be some nameless fling."

His eyes were red—clearly on the verge of tears—yet he still forced himself to stay calm and draw a clear line.

A mischievous idea sparked in me.

I pointed at my elongated fangs—visible even with my mouth closed—and put on a pitiful look. "But I'm so hungry. Can you really bear to see me always underfed?"

Without hesitation, he rolled up his shirtsleeve to his elbow and offered his arm to my mouth. "If it's just feeding, I don't mind."

"Not this spot."

I reached out, my fingertips tracing over his abs through the fabric, then traveling upward to his chest. I chuckled softly. "I miss you... right here."