Benson

Chapter 61 The Fog of Memory

In all these years of marriage, Yvonne had never addressed him so affectionately.

Previously, his cold demeanor had made her wary of crossing that boundary.

Now, she was unwilling.

Drunken and dazed, her body was soft and her voice gentler than usual, carrying an irresistible allure to his ears.

“What did you call me?” he murmured, holding her waist lightly.

“Husband, aren’t we married?” she whispered, her cheek against his neck, her smile filled

with satisfaction.

Benson gazed down at her, recalling the day they got their marriage certificate when she had smiled the same way.

He draped a coat over her, carefully picked her up, and walked out of the noisy private

room.

The cold wind was biting, and Yvonne’s foggy mind cleared a little.

Opening her eyes, she saw Benson’s tight jawline, which seemed particularly sharp.

Is this… like when we first got married?

Her thoughts were a bit muddled, and her eyes hurt. She closed them again for

comfort.

Once in the car, Benson pressed her against the door, kissing her deeply.

Yvonne, nearly suffocating from his pressure, tried to push his face away.

He gripped her wrists tightly.

“Move, used utensils!”

Benson chuckled at her words, finding her amusing.

Unable to move, she glared at him, making him even more tender.

He gently stroked her delicate neck and kissed her passionately again.

Yvonne gritted her teeth, squirming restlessly to resist.

“Yvonne, is this how you behave?”

Drunkenly teasing and then not admitting it.

some

The light from outside cast shadows on her face, her eyes dreamy and innocent like a fawn

in the forest.

This reminded him of the first time he saw her, sitting on the sofa, saying to her parents, “I want Benson, is that okay?”

Her eyes had sparkled the same way.

“Didn’t you say you wanted me?” Benson whispered.

Yvonne’s thoughts became hazy again. “Like this?”

“Hmm.”

The driver glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing him hunched over, kissing his wife with an aggressive passion.

He dared not look longer, sighing instead.

Sir, how shameless, tricking her like this.

The t

faint scent of wine tangled between their lips, making Yvonne even more intoxicated, as she clung tightly to his neck..

Suddenly, a phone vibrated, making him stiffen and stop.

The woman in his arms tilted her neck in displeasure, looking at him in confusion.

“Let’s go home first.” He said, his thumb lightly brushing her moist red lips, straightening his clothes and holding her close.

Her phone rang again. Benson took it out, glanced at it, and answered, “She’s not coming back tonight, can’t take the call.”

Hearing Benson’s voice, Bella exploded, “You scumbag, let Yvonne answer the phone! How dare you not let h

come home?”

Benson: “…”

Seeing Yvonne’s wide eyes, smiling at him, he handed her the phone.

“Hi, Bella.”

“Yvonne, did you drink red wine?”

“I got married today, no wine.”

Bella: “…”

Yvonne drinking red wine was like drinking fake wine, she could hug a dog and call it Bella, marriage…not surprising.

“Benson, I’m warning you, don’t touch her while she’s drunk, or I’ll fight you.”

Benson chuckled and hung up the phone.

How could he not touch her when she was so alluring?

But when they got home, Yvonne fell asleep on his lap.

THE Mensong

Feeling guilty about the brooch, he didn’t disturb her, just wiped her down and let her sleep.

Maria brought up a cup of honey water, seeing Mr. Benson sitting on the sofa, head slightly tilted, gazing at the sleeping Mrs. Benson.

Yvonne’s long hair spread across her white back, revealing one shoulder, but Maria could imagine her pure and soft beauty. No wonder Mr. Benson was so entranced, not even bothering to dry her hair.

She knew it would be like this and was truly happy for Mrs. Benson.

Maria didn’t disturb them, quietly leaving with the honey water and closing the door gently.

The sun was already shining brightly outside, golden light filtering through the curtains, bringing warmth to the room.

Yvonne slowly woke from her dream, feeling a strong arm wrapped around her waist. The arm’s owner was Benson, whose body heat seeped through, making her frown slightly.

She turned her head to see Benson lying beside her, breathing steadily, still seemingly asleep.

Yvonne gently tried to move, but found herself tightly held, as if he feared she would suddenly disappear. More embarrassingly, she realized she was completely naked, the cool touch of the sheets on her skin.

She tried to recall last night, remembering vague fragments, intimate moments with Benson, but the details were hazy, like shrouded in a thin mist.

She sighed softly, turning over to get out of bed.

Her bra hung on her arm, evidently Benson’s doing, not even bothering to help her put on pajamas.

She turned her back to Benson, trying to fasten her bra, but failed several times in frustration.

Just then, Benson’s fingers brushed her back, easily fastening it for her.

Yvonne grabbed a pillow to cover herself, glaring at him fiercely.

Benson, lying with his arm under his head, his gaze lingered on her slender waist and long legs, his eyes darkening.

Yvonne glared at him angrily before rushing into the dressing room. Benson sighed and decided to take a shower first.

While Yvonne was having breakfast, Benson came over and stood before her. She frowned, feeling he blocked the light, and dropped her egg, ready to leave.

Benson grabbed her arm, “We need to talk.”

“About divorce?” Yvonne looked back at him.

Chapter 67 The Fog of Memory

“Last night you held me, calling me husband,” Benson raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes teasing.

“I drank red wine. I’d call a pig husband. In college, I hugged the school dog and called it Bella.” Yvonne coldly replied.

Benson was momentarily speechless, then said seriously, “I didn’t know the brooch was your father’s keepsake.”

Yvonne paused, scrutinizing Benson. His face, still handsome with slight scars, looked sincere, not like he was lying.

This confused Yvonne. If he didn’t know the brooch’s origin, how did Mary?

“Yvonne, I wouldn’t be so cruel to use something like this to hurt you….” Benson continued, ” I’m sorry for the pain I caused.”

Yvonne felt a pang in her heart, looking at Benson, she asked, “Even if you knew, with Mary wanting it and your dislike for me, would you have given me the brooch?”

Benson remained silent, just looking at her. Yvonne smiled bitterly, understanding the answer. He still wouldn’t.