In the morning, An Lin woke up to find the person beside her already out of bed.
The master bedroom, with its tightly drawn curtains, was dimly lit and gentle, and the air still faintly held the ambiguous scent of last night's intimacy.
It was clearly not the first time she had been with Qin Mu.
Yet when An Lin thought of the scenes from last night, her face flushed, and her heart raced.
Suddenly, she remembered what he said last time, that he loved being intimate with her, loved her body. She lowered her head, looking at her body under the covers.
Last night, Qin Mu wasn't rough, but he still left several marks on her.
The most obvious one was on her chest.
Her face grew hotter and hotter, and she shook her head, forbidding herself from recalling that man's passionate yet gentle tenderness from last night.
