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Such meticulousness and devotion, without the slightest hint of passion, desire, or possession, radiated like a treasured artifact kept in worship—radiant and magnificent—until, in moments of forgetfulness, his actions became slightly more fervent.
Ye Che held her slim waist tightly, pressing her firmly against his chest, his tongue tracing her slightly cool lips, exploring delicately through her slightly parted mouth.
Xia Weiyi had never been as immersed as she was at this moment; apart from the scorching heat from the palm of his hand, what filled her heart was the growing sweetness. She reached out to hook Ye Che's neck actively, tiptoed, and responded with innocent eagerness.
Just as the two lost themselves in the moment, almost feeling as though time could stand still, a coughing sound came from the distance.
