Lyra Smith instinctively wanted to retreat, to avoid his hand.
But her body didn't react as fast as her mind; in the next moment, she found herself pressed against the table.
"Uncle Five…" Being pinned down, Lyra had to worry about both Uncle Five's injury and the potential of someone knocking on the door.
She would be completely finished if someone were to accidentally see them.
"Scared?" A slight smile colored his usually emotionless face.
Her panic was written all over her face, hard for Morris not to notice even if he didn't want to.
"I'm not scared." Her voice was soft and delicate, like the paws of a cat scratching lightly at the end of Morris's heart.
Following her statement, he asked, "Then why do you avoid?"
The hand that slipped into her skirt neither retreated nor proceeded further.
Lyra's heartbeat was still somewhat rapid; her small face hidden behind her makeup must be blushing by now.
"Speak." His voice was slightly hoarse as he reminded her.
