Claire Prescott gripped the hand pressed against her waist, trying to push it away, but his strength was always overwhelming, making her even more acutely aware of his warmth.
It was like being enveloped by a cloud infused with poison, gently surrounding her, robbing her of the ability to resist him.
Her voice lowered slightly: "Trick me upstairs, and then take liberties with me in my room?"
Keane Lowell didn't take her angry words to heart.
Visiting her room was only one of his objectives, the main reason was to find a space belonging to the two of them to sit down and have a good talk.
Just that.
Upon entering the environment she grew up in, he seemed to be able to understand her more intuitively.
Her books filled the wall, arranged from childhood to adulthood, meticulously managed, and the room's decor mainly in light green with white accents created an exceptionally warm atmosphere, reflecting her simple mind, not as complicated as he had thought.
