Substitute Bride: Utterly Pampered by Her Billionaire Husband-Chapter 1161: Tonight, Don’t Go Back

Charles Bishop paced anxiously back and forth, "This is really stressful. The herbologist said this caterpillar fungus is extremely rare, only found deep in the Changbai Mountains. Last night, I offered a reward for anyone who would venture into the mountains to find it, but no one wanted to take the risk. Some people went this morning, but there’s been no word all day, so I guess they didn’t find it."

Just then, the door opened, and someone entered.

"Doctor Sterling!" Charles thought it was Serena Sterling, but it wasn’t. Standing by the door was the charming figure of Dianna Hollis.

"Dianna, why are you here? Where’s Doctor Sterling?" Charles asked anxiously.

Dianna looked over Charles’ shoulder into the room. Mort Thorne was tied to a chair to prevent self-harm.

"Lieutenant Bishop, please step outside for a moment," Dianna instructed.

Charles hesitated, surprised that Dianna would ask him to leave at this moment.

"Alright, Dianna, you stay here, I’ll head out for a while." Charles wanted to personally go to the Changbai Mountains.

"Lieutenant Bishop, there’s no need for that. I’ve already found the caterpillar fungus." Dianna had already seen through Charles’ intentions and took out the fungus she had obtained.

Because Mort didn’t want Dianna to know how bad his condition was, Charles hadn’t explicitly mentioned it. Now he froze, utterly shocked to see the fungus in Dianna’s hand.

Charles gasped, "Dianna, where did you get that fungus? Don’t tell me... you went to the Changbai Mountains?"

Dianna nodded, "Yes, I did."

After his initial shock, Charles felt a sense of calm, "Dianna, I’ll leave Mort to you then. I’ll be right outside the door if you need anything."

Charles walked out and closed the door behind him.

...

Inside the room, Dianna walked over to Mort Thorne. The man sat with his head hanging low, his damp bangs shadowing his bloodshot eyes, large beads of sweat dripping from his chiseled jaw, soaking his shirt and pants.

She reached out with her small hand, slowly caressing his firm cheek.

Suddenly touched, Mort raised his head abruptly, his bloodshot eyes cold and fierce as they locked onto Dianna.

Seeing it was Dianna, his expression changed, and he rasped hoarsely, "Dianna, please go. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine soon!"

He wanted her to leave.

Dianna’s gentle fingers lingered over his stubbled chin, softly stroking, "Mort, there’s no state of yours I haven’t seen, no matter how terrible. I don’t want to leave; I want to stay with you."

Mort pressed his thin lips together. Her small hand felt like a kitten’s paw, occasionally scratching his stubble, soft and making him itch inside. He closed his eyes briefly, pressing his handsome cheek into her palm.

He thought he could endure without her, but he was wrong.

He needed her.

Dianna extended her small hand and untied the ropes on his hands.

Freed, Mort stood up, clasping her slender wrist with his rough palm as he led her out, "Dianna, my addiction is severe this time, and I can’t guarantee your safety if you stay. Please, just go, I promise I’ll be alright."

Dianna was led to the door, and Mort reached out to open it, but with a "snap," Dianna swiftly closed it again.

Swinging around swiftly, Dianna wrapped her little hands around his neck, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his thin lips.

Mort froze.

Then, Dianna pried open his teeth and fed the fungus into his mouth.

After she was done, she retreated.

Now, their position was she was pinned between his solid chest and the door, her hands still around his neck in an incredibly intimate posture.

Mort lowered his handsome eyelids, staring at her small oval face, hoarsely asking, "What did you feed me?"

Dianna tilted her head, her bright eyes sparkling, "It’s a soul-capturing herb. Once you eat it, your soul will be enchanted by me."

Mort’s rough hand squeezed her willowy waist, and his heavy breath brushed against her tender skin, "You went looking for fungus?"

Dianna didn’t reply.

He squeezed her waist more forcefully, their faces pressing together, noses touching, breaths intertwined, "Answer me!"

His hoarse voice was a bit stern.

Ouch.

Dianna winced slightly.

"Are you hurt? Let me see where you’re injured," Mort’s eyes darkened as he tried to lift her dress to check for injuries.

"Mort, lower your head."

"Lower your head..."

Mort slowly bent his tall and muscular body down.

Dianna’s little hands moved up to cradle his head, pulling it into her embrace, "Mort, does it hurt?"

Mort...

Does it hurt...

At this moment, the room was very quiet, the warm yellow light cast a gentle hue over them.

Mort’s head rested against her soft chest, her voice filled with concern and tenderness echoing around him, "Mort, does it hurt?"

All of Mort’s muscles tightened, gathering all his strength as if ready to act, but soon his strong muscles relaxed, and he wrapped his strong arms around her slender waist, burying his face in her chest.

Dianna’s fair fingers wove through his prickly short hair, gently massaging, "It’s alright, it won’t hurt soon, everything is in the past."

Yes, soon it won’t hurt...

Now having eaten the fungus, he slowly felt the pain subsiding.

Mort lifted his head and kissed her.

Dianna embraced him, returning his kiss passionately and willingly.

No words, no actions, just two people lost in their passionate kiss, their breath and heartbeats entwined.

The craving passed, Mort released Dianna just as a maid brought dinner. Mort began eating the simple porridge and steamed buns.

Mort took a few bites of the steamed bun, and Dianna looked at him with glistening eyes, "I’m hungry too, I want to eat."

Mort handed her the bun, and Dianna took a bite from his hand.

"Tonight, don’t go back," he said, holding her.

"Why?"

"Let me see your injuries."

Dianna raised her face, "Really just to check the injuries?"

She smiled mischievously like a little fox, and Mort swallowed, clearing his throat earnestly, "Don’t joke about it!"

Dianna nestled beside him, and although there was no heating, there was a clean wooden tub. She commanded, "Later, you fetch hot water; I want to take a bath."

"Okay."

Mort brought the hot water. Carrying several buckets, the muscles on his arms bulged one by one as he filled the wooden tub. Water splashed, wetting his black shirt and pants, but he paid no heed.

With the tub full, his deep eyes glanced toward Dianna in the room, "You can come and wash now."