One wrong step, and she might never recover.
She cannot afford to lose.
"Okay."
Tristan finally nodded, his gaze still firmly locked on her eyes.
A slow smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Yet that smile didn't reach his eyes; instead, it carried a hint of danger.
"Then before that, let's collect some interest first."
As soon as he finished speaking, he clasped her nape with one hand.
Her body hadn't had time to react when he was already bending down to kiss her.
In that instant, her world seemed to be drained of all sound.
She clenched her fist, her nails digging deep into her palm.
But she dared not move an inch, letting him slowly occupy her breath.
Though it was winter, the cold wind howled outside, and thin frost clung to the window glass.
Yet in this room, it was as hot as midday in midsummer, suffocatingly oppressive.
The air was filled with a dizzying warmth.
After a while, he slowly released her, his fingers still lightly supporting her nape.
