"No, I don't need to wash..."
This feeling made her panic. She struggled to stand up again, but he held her tightly, and she couldn't make any sound.
Leng Yan took advantage of her struggle, already pressing his lips against hers, dominantly drawing her breath away.
All the air seemed to have been sucked away, Wen Nuan's mind went blank, and her body softened.
His lips lingered over hers, occasionally giving her a chance to breathe, then tormenting her again, drawing out the air within.
In the atmosphere of the bathroom, stimulating his surging adrenaline, Leng Yan lifted her from the bathtub, wrapped her with a towel, and threw her onto the bed, pressing down on her.
"Wait—"
Her consciousness still reminded her that Leng Yan hadn't taken any safety measures.
She reached for the nightstand drawer, pulled something out and handed it to Leng Yan, her face shy: "You didn't bring..."
"How thoughtful."
