Arielle leaned over to check on Vinson's wound.
Some strands of her hair fell forward and brushed against his forehead. The touch was light, making him feel slightly itchy, and his heart skipped a beat.
For some reason, Vinson's mind was all over the place, and he swallowed hard again. However, Arielle continued sitting on top of him without noticing anything.
It was the type of torturous feeling only a man could understand.
Unable to bear it any longer, Vinson said in a low voice, “Arielle.”
Arielle was rolling Vinson's sleeve up. As soon as she heard him call out her name, she looked up
instinctively.
However, it would have been better if she did not do so. When she did, the tip of her nose brushed against Vinson's nose bridge.
With their noses touching, their eyes met.
Their breaths mingled, and the atmosphere was intimate.
Arielle let out a cry of surprise.
She finally realized that they were in a potentially compromising position.
Her ears and neck were flushed as she jerked back her head and quickly climbed off Vinson.
She moved at the speed of lightning as if her life depended on it.
In an amused and exasperated tone, Vinson said, “I'm not a wolf. You don't have to be so afraid of me.
Of course, she's right to be afraid. If this keeps up, I don't know what I'll end up doing.
Vinson had come to terms with the fact that he was a man with desires.
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