For the first time, she had clearly rejected him. Baron Lawrence frowned, sweat streaming down his temples as he restrained himself. He supported himself with his arms on either side of Enna Clark, looking down at her, his voice low and hoarse, "Reason."
His scorching breath sprayed on her face, on her neck... Enna turned her head away, avoiding his gaze, "I'm not feeling well."
"Where do you not feel well?" Baron Lawrence's brow furrowed, as if he could crush a fly with it. He turned around and grabbed her wrist, his eyes full of concern, "Another headache? Or somewhere else that's uncomfortable?"
"..." She felt uncomfortable in her heart, as if an invisible hand was squeezing it. She could barely breathe.
Enna's throat was incredibly dry, and as her eyes met his attentive gaze, she opened her mouth and said, "I really don't want to today, can we not?"
"I'm asking you where you don't feel well," Baron Lawrence's handsome face darkened.
