Nan Jiaojiao turned around, and Bo Yanching's hand was still propped on the door, encircling her in his arms perfectly.
Almost instinctively, Bo Yanching wrapped his arms around her waist, his voice low and husky, "You gave the bed to me, where will you sleep?"
"I woke up, got out of bed to read some materials, you rest."
"You mean sit on the sofa and read?"
"Yeah."
In just a few exchanges, Bo Yanching had already lowered his head, almost touching forehead to forehead with hers. Nan Jiaojiao felt dizzy and, as if possessed, clung to his arm and bit her lip, "Don't do this, you're making me really want to seduce you."
The man chuckled, "Try seducing me."
His other hand caressed her waist; she was so thin, so petite that his hands could easily grasp her.
