So, lying on the bed, eyes fixed on the white sheets, unmoving, her ears listening to the man telling a story.
Ose Owen's lips curled up, his dark eyes deep, the woman lay on the bed, her expression lazy, a faint smile on her lips, making her fair little face even more exquisitely clear.
The man's gaze darkened a shade, his large hand caressed her cheek, gently stroking. Crossley looked up at him, her cheeks flushed. She didn't shy away; she lowered her gaze, grabbed his hand with her left hand, and then rubbed her cheek against his palm lightly.
The silky, delicate sensation in his palm was like an electric shock, making the man's hand feel a tingling numbness, his breath deepened, and his back slightly tensed, a deep desire within him suddenly awakened.
Ose squinted his eyes, abruptly retracted his hand. After all, the child hadn't fallen asleep, and he feared if he didn't, he wouldn't be able to hold back.
