Zhao Yiming exhaled, trying to cool the fire spreading beneath his skin. But Han Queying didn't give him space.
"Calm down, Officer, I'm not going anywhere."
She was already inching closer, her fingers tracing the edge of the gauze she'd just taped onto his arm. Her touch was light, teasing.
"I know, that's why I became more impatient." she smirked and then continued, "Y'know I didn't expect you to be so… composed in a fight. And now this?"
She tugged his shirt gently. "All patched up with those veins still popping from your arms." Her fingers now moved to the veins in his arm, slowly brushing them along the way, face full of lust.
Zhao Yiming gave her a sidelong glance. "You flirt with every man who saves your life?"
"Nope," she grinned. "Only the ones with stupid heroic complexes and arms that could break someone in half."
"That's oddly specific." he narrowed his eyes.
"I have standards," she whispered, crawling over him now.