Abigail tried to get away from George, and her hot body accidentally rubbed against his arm. The man instantly felt all his blood began to boil, and Involuntarily, he held the woman even more tightly.

Abigail was losing her breath. "Get off me."

"Shut up, or you won't be able to sleep tonight." The man's voice was frighteningly hoarse.

Sensing that the man was different tonight, Abigail tensed up and remained still, not daring to breathe for fear of annoying him.

She and George had been through that drugging event once, and she was scared of experiencing it again.

After a while, seeing that George did not make the next move, Abigail tamped down the panic inside, clutched the blanket with both hands, and called the man's name tentatively, "George..."

In the darkness, the woman's soft call was like a pot of intoxicating wine.

The look in the man's eye darkened, and the changes were so subtle that even himself might not take notice of them.

At the woman's call, the man reached out one hand to her front body. Then, the woman shut her mouth up, stayed motionless, and closed her eyes.

In the quiet room, only the soft, restrained breathing of the two could be heard.

Abigail had always been a good sleeper, and her regular routine made her sleepy at this hour. For fear that George would mess around with her, she hung in thirty minutes and finally dropped asleep.

In contrast, holding the woman, the man felt that his entire body had been set on fire.

While sleeping, Abigail rolled over, put one leg on the man's thigh and one hand upon his waist, and her front got closer to his chest.

George's entire volume of blood was screaming. As he could not stand it, he had to get up and take a cold shower.

In fact, he had taken about seven or eight showers over that night. Like a masochist, however, each time George got back into the bed, he still cuddled the woman.

In the early hours of the morning, the sky was getting bright. George looked at the woman who was sleeping soundly next to him and thought that he should probably get up.

He did not fall asleep for a moment during the night.

When Abigail woke up, George had gone.

She lowered her head to find that her pajamas were still on, then heaved a sigh of relief, got changed after washing up, and went downstairs.

Oliver and George were having breakfast.

As she was the last one to get up, Abigail revealed an apologetical smile at Oliver and sat across from him and George.

She had only taken a sip of milk when George suddenly spoke up, "Grandpa, she can't move into my apartment."

"Why?"

"We're incompatible in sex."

At the words, Oliver could not help spewing out the milk from his mouth.

The milk was spread over the food on the table and even Abigail. However, she sat still as nothing had happened to her and stared at George.

How bold of George to say so!

Oliver nearly puked blood. "George, what nonsense are you talking about?!"

They had had sex that night. How come that they had been incompatible in sex?

"I was in the same bed with her last night and couldn't bring up the slightest desire..." George maintained expressionless, and the glance he shot at Abigail was devoid of warmth.

Abigail was too ashamed to argue with the man on this topic in front of Grandfather Oliver. She had to lower her head to stare at her breakfast on the plate, motionlessly.

Oliver did not buy George's words and impulsively answered, "No way, last time you..."

"Which time? The time you drugged me? Are you going to do it again?" George's voice was extraordinarily chilly, and he slammed his chopsticks onto the table.