Hearing her words, Tianlong suddenly raised an eyebrow, his head tilting with mock offense.
"Wait, why are you talking like I'm some kind of pervert?"
Yu Xiang blinked, lifting her face from his chest with confusion painted across her features. She looked at him for a moment before sighing deeply, her violet eyes drifting downward toward her chest.
There, plain as day, his hand was already working at the silk fastenings of her crimson robe, fingers deftly moving to unhook the delicate clasps.
She gave him the most deadpan, blank look imaginable—the expression of someone who'd caught a thief red-handed with their hand in the cookie jar.
Tianlong, like the shameless man he was, continued his work with practiced ease. His fingers moved with surgical precision, slowly parting the silk until her cleavage became visible—the pale valley between her modest but perfectly shaped breasts, rising and falling with her still-ragged breathing from their earlier kiss.
