My wife, Jenna Cruise, stepped out of the bathroom after changing. She tossed the designer dress I had just touched into the trash can. I tried to stop her. "I gave you that for your birthday. You've only worn it once."Jenna said coolly, "But you just touched the dress. No matter how many times I wash it, it'll still smell like you. I don't want it anymore."She noticed how upset I was, so she softened her tone. "Tristan, you know I can't have physical contact with any man. You're injured, so you need to rest. Don't get yourself all worked up."As if trying to comfort me, she put on another pair of plush gloves over her medical-grade ones and gently rested her hand on my head. She patted the back of my hand, as if she were doing me a favor.But what she did pushed me over the edge. I yanked my hand away from her, bile rising in my throat. "Jenna, am I really that disgusting to you?"Jenna froze, then her brows furrowed slightly. "Tristan, I know I'm the reason you got injured
Magbasa pa