But as she spoke, she pointed to her own chest, jabbing forcefully at the position of her heart, her voice muffled and brimming with grievance, "But here... it hurts so much..."
Yan Chu's arms, wrapped around her, suddenly tightened, and he bent his head to kiss her long hair, "Let's go to sleep, when you wake up it won't hurt anymore."
He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, placing her on the big bed, then grabbed a warm towel to wipe her hands and mouth.
Luo Qiangwei, inebriated and restless, writhed her body around, her neckline slipping down with her movements, revealing her fair and round little shoulders. With her hair in disarray, she looked incredibly alluring.
The hand of Yan Chu holding the towel paused, and he suddenly felt a surge of lust rushing toward his abdomen, his whole body's blood boiling—
Without a doubt, he wanted her.
It was not out of sympathy, nor pity, but the most primal affection and desire a man could have for a woman.
