Chapter 3 Do You Think Having Ulterior Motives is a Compliment

A damp, soft tongue brushed against his skin. Even though he was asleep and unaware of what was happening, Charles's body still shuddered uncontrollably. His eyes snapped open.

"Mist?"

He hadn't even seen her face, but just from the familiar scent, his mouth worked faster than his brain, immediately recognizing who the head nestled against his neck belonged to.

Realizing that the sticky sensation on his skin was from Mist's tongue and that she wasn't satisfied after licking him and had started sucking instead, he quickly pushed her head away.

"What are you doing?"

The hoarseness in his voice only made Mist more eager to feast, but unfortunately, the man was pressing down on her head with firm strength, making it impossible for her to move forward or retreat.

Charles's sleep-heavy eyes were filled with complex emotions. Everything that had just happened clearly went beyond what his half-awake brain could comprehend.

Pinned by him, the shameless Mist had glistening lips, a flushed face, and even her neck was tinged with pink.

She blinked innocently, feigning ignorance. "I didn't do anything."

Charles touched his neck with his free hand. There wasn't any saliva left, but he could feel a faint dampness on his fingertips.

Staring at Mist, who was dishonest both in action and words, Charles recalled the shivers that had run through him moments ago. His sleep-deprived brain began to ache.

He had only gone to sleep near dawn, and halfway through, his phone had woken him up. Seeing a message from Mist, he hadn't thought much before sending her the door code.

Who knew she'd give him such a surprise?

If he had woken up any later, judging by her hunger for him, his innocence would have been lost.

No-considering his current state, his innocence was already hanging by a thread.

Feeling a certain part of his body stir, Charles pulled the blanket higher over himself. His deep voice carried a hint of restrained anger.

"This is what you call restraint?"

Mist licked the corner of her lips, determined to deny everything. "I didn't do anything just now."

"Brave enough to act, but not to admit it?"

Charles sat up on the bed, supporting himself with his hands.

Mist rolled her wheelchair closer. Seeing that Charles didn't seem to want her help, she obediently stayed in place.

Charles was indeed about to get out of bed-but not while someone was watching.

Especially not when that someone was Mist, who was clearly up to no good.

Tugging at the oversized collar of his sleep T-shirt, Charles stated, "I'm not wearing pants."

Mist blinked. Was this a hint?

If she had known, she wouldn't have wasted time shyly licking his neck-she should have gone straight under the covers. Maybe by now, she'd already be eating.

The main issue was that she wasn't sure if Charles had showered. Compared to most people, he had more difficulty maintaining hygiene due to his legs, and she didn't want to lift the blanket and see something that would kill her appetite. That's why she chose a more innocent approach.

Seeing Mist remain silent and showing no sign of turning away, Charles smirked. "You're not leaving. Do you want to watch?"

"Can I?"

"Of course," Charles paused, looking straight into Mist's eyes. The teasing curve of his lips fell, and he enunciated each word, "No. You. Can't."

So stingy.

Mist let go of her wheelchair, reluctantly moving toward the door.

Charles watched her take three steps and look back every time. Only when she finally disappeared into the bathroom did the corners of his lips curl up again.

He really needed to consult a fortune teller. What kind of luck did he have to attract someone like Mist?

Just how obsessed was she with him? Her face was as red as a tomato, her voice was trembling, yet she still wouldn't stop acting thirsty.

Running a hand through his hair, Charles sat in front of the mirror for a while before finally starting his morning routine.

Mist waited in the living room for quite a while, long enough for the housekeeper to arrive, but Charles's bedroom door remained shut.

She wondered if he had fallen back asleep. Testing the door handle, she found that he had locked it.

So uncute.

Locking eyes with the housekeeper for a few awkward seconds, Mist felt that waiting around was a waste of time. Since her agent had sent her a new script, she decided to go back home to read it.

Her journey into acting hadn't been particularly special.

Her uncle owned an entertainment company, and she had guest-starred in a few roles as a child. She officially debuted at sixteen when her mother's personal life stabilized, and Mist no longer needed to stay by her side.

Looking through university majors, she found that she had no interest in science, no expectations for liberal arts, and no desire to turn her hobbies of painting and music into a profession.

In the end, acting was the only thing that intrigued her.

It wasn't about being a star or basking in attention-she simply enjoyed the novelty of playing characters with personalities different from her own.

And besides, acting was one of the few jobs where doing well meant receiving endless praise.

Who wouldn't enjoy a work environment full of encouragement?

After confirming her decision, she told her mother, who had no objections. Mist then signed with her uncle's company.

A few months later, she landed her first significant film role.

It was a school romance adapted from a manga. She wasn't the female lead, but because her looks perfectly matched the second female lead's character setting, she gained some recognition when the film was released.

For a while, many scripts came her way, some offering leading roles. But since she wanted to be an actor rather than just capitalize on fleeting popularity, she turned them down. Instead, she took small supporting roles in major productions to gain experience.

After finishing high school, her uncle, confident in her academic abilities, started pushing more resources her way.

Last week, she had just shot a well-known shampoo commercial. Now, another script had arrived.

Her agent had sent over a police-thriller film funded by their company. The director and cast were top-tier, and her role-a kidnapped heiress who connected various subplots-wasn't just a pretty face but a character with depth.

Appreciating her uncle's efforts and intrigued by the script and cast, Mist replied to her agent, agreeing to audition.

Only then did she notice a message from Charles, sent two hours ago.

Charles, Where are you?

Looking out at the drizzling rain, Mist typed a reply as she grabbed an umbrella.

Mist, Hmph.

Charles, ?

Staring at Mist's message, Charles finally understood what it meant for a guilty person to complain first.

She had been the one who sneakily licked him in his sleep, refused to leave his room when he wanted to get up.

He should be the one saying "hmph."

Just as he was contemplating how to make her realize her wrongdoing, he heard the front door unlock.

Seconds later, Mist appeared in the entryway.

"That wasn't direct enough. Say 'hmph' to my face."

Charles raised his phone and waved it at her.

"What do you mean by 'Neighbor With Ulterior Motives'?"

Mist, with sharp eyesight, caught the contact name immediately. She changed into disposable slippers and walked toward the living room, eyeing Charles's phone.

Charles had no intention of hiding it. "What's wrong with that name? Aren't you?"

"If I am, what's my reward?"

Mist sat beside him-originally planning to keep some distance, but her uncooperative body had other ideas, and their legs ended up touching.

Charles glanced at the fabric of her long skirt pressed against his sweatpants. "Do you think 'having ulterior motives' is a compliment?"

"Then I don't have ulterior motives. Change it."

Mist suddenly turned and pounced on him, reaching for his phone.

But instead of grabbing it, her eyes were locked on Charles's face.

Their gazes met, and she found herself leaning closer, her lips burning with the desire to kiss something.

But just like that morning, Charles pushed her away.

Mist gritted her teeth. Maybe he just didn't like women?

But if that were the case, why had he reacted when she accidentally fell on his lap and touched him before?

If he wasn't interested in women, why was he playing this game of push-and-pull?

Yes, push-and-pull.

Feeling triumphant at finding the right term for Charles's behavior, Mist let out a heavy "hmph."

"Hmm, that was more direct."

Charles opened the contact page and actually changed her name.

Mist glanced over-

"Red Tomato With Ulterior Motives"

Mist, "..."

At least she had gone from a neighbor to something edible. That was progress, right?

Fanning her burning face, Mist no longer cared about blushing in front of Charles, but the heat was genuinely uncomfortable.

"I'm getting water. Do you want anything?"

"There's cold water in the mini fridge."

Charles pointed it out, and Mist grabbed a bottle, pressing it against her cheeks. "Why do you have face masks in your fridge?"

"Why can't I?"

Charles countered, then, realizing why she was asking, added, "I'm not allowed to use them?"

"Oh..."

Mist dragged out her response. Before sitting back down, she hesitated and asked, "Do you have a girlfriend? Or a wife?"

She spoke cautiously, her eyes widening in fear of hearing an unwanted answer.

"Isn't it a little late to ask?"

Charles leaned back lazily on the couch, adjusting his game settings. The daylight was bothering him, so he closed the curtains.

The motorized tracks hummed as the room darkened, leaving only the glow of the screen illuminating Charles's figure.

Watching his chiseled features in the dim light, Mist couldn't decipher the meaning behind his smirk.

Her heart tightened.

I can't be this unlucky, right?

She had assumed his legs might lower his desirability in the dating market, but she hadn't considered how much his face and wealth would boost it.

Just because she hadn't seen any women around him lately didn't mean he didn't have a partner. Maybe she was traveling, on vacation, or just momentarily distracted by another wildflower.

"Charles, answer me properly."

Charles thought about saying yes-after all, he had countless girlfriend fans and wife fans.

But considering Mist's usual conversation style, he didn't want to reveal unnecessary information that would ruin the fun.

Setting down his controller, he turned to Mist, raising an eyebrow. He deliberately gave her a proper answer.

"There's a long line. Want to take a number?"

Mist's heart, which had been on edge, instantly settled.

She lunged into his arms. "I have no morals-I'm cutting in line!"