He stared at her, his gaze deep and impenetrable.
Joan Harry resembled Cora Jorney more, but her eyes and nose were truly reminiscent of Yacob Harry.
Joan Harry could no longer find any excuse. She bit down hard on her lip, nearly drawing blood.
A sudden silence enveloped her ears.
The sound of rain outside poured incessantly, drop by drop, as if hammering against her heart.
Jesse Rowan locked his intense gaze on her, his eyes threaded with crimson veins.
Their gazes collided, and the air grew thick with combustible tension.
At last, Joan Harry lowered her voice. "Where do we do it?"
"I'm not in the mood to move, too tired. Right here will do!"
When Jesse Rowan spoke, he was prepared for her rebuff. Yet she displayed no emotional reaction, merely nodded. "Alright."
So obedient. Truly obedient.
Joan Harry's fingers moved to the buttons of her clothes.
