Daisy Ginger leaned back in the car seat, lifting her eyelids to look at him, her expression carrying a hint of a sardonic smile.
Edward Stephens had always thought she was beautiful, like a rose with thorns. How could any man find her anything but stunning? Yet, there were some who dared not reach out to pick her, afraid of getting pricked.
She seemed aware of this as well, flaunting herself boldly under the admiring yet fearful gazes of the opposite sex, which cultivated the dazzling allure of Daisy Ginger.
To have her, scissors wouldn't do; if you cut her and put her in a vase, she'd wither in a few days.
To own this rose, you have to dig her up with roots and soil intact, plant her in your own garden, so no one else can covet her.
Edward lowered his eyes, observing her indifferent attitude. He leaned in to kiss her lips, but she turned her head away coolly, causing his lips to land on her slender, fair neck.
