Sang Qian's face reddened as she argued, "That's not true, I'm just cold."
Ji Chengzhou's eyes shimmered with desire, growing deeper and more inscrutable, as he flipped Sang Qian over to lie on the glass door, "If you're cold, brace yourself with your hands."
The dark grey glass door was clean and clear. Although it did not reflect a perfect image, it outlined Sang Qian's body shape, bare and smooth.
Sang Qian felt this was too shameful and wanted to turn around.
Ji Chengzhou held her shoulder with one hand and grasped her slender waist with the other, keeping her from moving.
"Let's not do it here, how about we go to the bedroom?" Sang Qian turned her head back, her tone suggesting a plea.
As the woman turned to look at him, her face flushed with arousal, red as if blood would drip, her eyes shy but desperate, displaying the most tantalizing pose, yet so demure.
This feeling was somewhat fatal.
