Oliver Thompson gasped for air, then turned his head, taking a deep look at the face beside him that looked as gray as death, with empty eyes. He frowned slightly, then quickly pulled up the quilt to cover her bare body.
His brows furrowed tightly, a strong sense of regret filling his heart. He had finally achieved something he had desired for a long time, but the pleasure he normally derived from women was gone, replaced by deep melancholy.
The man's black shirt was still on, perfectly intact, even after everything that had occurred. Due to Julie Harrison's lack of cooperation, removing the shirt made absolutely no difference.
Just take off the trousers!
He glanced irritably at his sweat-soaked shirt and tried to pull it off, but he found that the damp fabric clung tightly to his muscular frame and he could not remove it. Oliver rummaged around the bedside table in the guest room and finally found a cigar provided for guests in a drawer.
"Click!"
