She hadn't been drinking, yet under the lights, she felt slightly intoxicated. Perhaps it was his mesmerizing features that ensnared her, making her reluctant to wake.
He lowered his head to look into her eyes.
Her eyes held a hint of panic, her cheeks already flushed red.
Sylvan Cheney's clothes were disheveled from her pulling, his well-toned physique revealed before her, abs faintly visible.
"Sylvan..." she whispered his name softly, with a tinge of bashfulness, "give me... please..."
She was actively seeking intimacy with him.
Between the sheets, it was rare for her to be so proactive. Since he lost his memory, her initiative was unprecedented.
Yet, she couldn't comprehend why tonight, the slightly indifferent Sylvan Cheney aroused countless desires within her.
Perhaps only at moments of connection in bed did she feel the utmost sense of security.
Because at that time, he was unequivocally hers.
