Chapter 1568
The room was silent for a long while before Winona peeked her head out.
She turned on the lights, and once she was sure Keaton was really gone, she got out of bed, still wrapped in the blanket.
The moment her feet touched the floor, she collapsed back onto the bed.
Her whole body was a canvas of aches, her muscles so weak she felt like a newborn fawn.
She knew this was the price of last night’s wild passion.
Winona grimaced and waited a moment, then forced her protesting body to the door
and locked it. Only then did she feel a sliver of relief.
Looking at the used tissues scattered all over the floor, the scenes from last night replayed in her mind p>
It had been an intense battle, and the worst part was, she had started it!
Winona’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.
She wasn’t some delicate flower. She was an adult, a divorced one at that. Sleeping with a man wasn’t the end of the world, but the key issue was p>
How could it have been Keaton p>
They were best buds!
What the hell was this? How were they supposed to face each other now?
Extremely frustrated, Winona raked her hands through her hair, messing it up until she looked like a madwoman.
But then she remembered how calm Keaton had been, and she forced herself to cool down.
Why was he so calm?
No, that wasn’t the point. The point was, if he could be so calm, why couldn’t she?
So what if it was a drunken one-night stand? What’s the big deal?
It’s not like she was an eighteen-year-old virgin. She wasn’t the one losing out here.
At least he was handsome, had a great body, good taste, and his skills in bed weren’t half bad p>
As for being friends… if it doesn’t work out, then screw it!
Who needs it? Not me!
I’m better off on my own!
After successfully talking herself down, Winona glanced at the decorative clock on the wall. It was already past two in the afternoon.
That was one long sleep.
The used tissues and condom wrappers on the floor were an eyesore. She gathered them up and threw them in the trash.
After washing up in the bathroom, she opened the washer-dryer combo and pulled out her now-dry underwear to put on.
Then, wrapped in a robe, she went into Keaton’s walk-in closet.
He said he didn’t stay here often, but the closet was spotless with everything neatly arranged t
obvious someone came to clean regularly.
The wardrobe was full of clothes, all of them new-season designer brands.
Winona picked out a white short-sleeved shirt and a pair of casual pants.
The pants had a drawstring waist, so she could adjust them, but the legs were too long, so she cuffed them a few times.
Then she pulled on a light hoodie, rocking the full boyfriend look.
She was five-foot-seven, and Keaton was six-foot two. His clothes didn’t ther perfectly but the oversized style looked good on her.
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Downstairs, Keaton was busy in the open-plan kitchen, dressed in a set of navy blue loungewear.
He was handsome and had a great physique. With an apron tied around his waist, accentuating his narrow waist and long legs, he looked like a scene straight out of a
makes a loving lunch for ho nover where the billio
sweetheart.
Sensing movement by the stairs, he quickly looked up.
His throat tightened when he saw Winona coming down in his clothes.
Before, he’d always seen her as a star—beautiful, with a great figure, great style, and flawless skin.
But his thoughts were pure; he genuinely saw her as a friend.
Now, looking at her, his mind was flooded with images of her without these clothes on, writhing beneath him p>
His throat tightened as he struggled to maintain his composure. Keaton wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.
It was as if his eyes were glued to her.
It wasn’t until a sizzling sound erupted from the pan that he snapped out of it,
fumbling to toss the contents and turn off the heat.
He quickly dumped the blackened, unidentifiable mess from the pan into the trash
can.
Then, trying to act composed, he said to Winona,