Jeffrey Foster slowly lifted his head toward Isabelle Martin's direction, his voice carrying a complex emotion, "Is your feeling for me really at the point where you can't control it?"
Isabelle's face flushed scarlet in an instant. She opened her mouth, trying to defend herself, but the man sitting on the bed sighed after failing to lift his arm for the nth time, "Help me."
"Huh? Oh." At this moment, Isabelle's face was burning, and she forgot the explanation she was brewing because of Jeffrey's words, replying with a blank 'oh' as she watched his clumsy movements and resigned herself to help.
It's just...
When she said she would help him, her intentions were pure, but because of Jeffrey's earlier words, the atmosphere inexplicably became a bit seductive. Especially since the man was sitting on the bed with only one sleeve on, a sight that back when Isabelle squeezed into Jeffrey Foster's public lecture with hundreds of other students, she never dared to even fantasize about.
