She only remembered herself whimpering, all swallowed by this man.
He might have been mindful of the baby in her belly, so his movements were especially gentle, as if afraid of hurting her...
But the more he acted this way, the more she wanted to hold him tightly...
Her body, beyond her control, leaned into him, her subconscious not allowing this man to leave her even for a moment.
She couldn’t remember when she softly fell asleep in his embrace.
She only remembered that his embrace felt incredibly safe, something she had never experienced before.
Lacking a father’s love from childhood, and her mother left early; around her, apart from her uncle, Carla Carr, and Bell... it seemed like it was just him.
No one knew how much time had passed.
The air that had been running chaotically in the room finally calmed down.
She was still clinging to his waist, unwilling to let go...
He hovered above her, recalling a few days ago... a few days ago, what that bastard in his body did...
He searched through the memories in his mind.
Finally, he remembered... that bastard threw away her ring, got drenched in the rain while finding it again... kissed her, made her cry, made her cry every day, yet that bastard thought it wasn’t enough. To please her, he held a dagger and placed it in her hand, stabbing it fiercely into his chest...
One stab wasn’t enough, so he stabbed twice.
She was so frightened that she fainted.
No wonder... she would forget.
She forgot what that bastard did, and at the same time, forgot about him too.
He suddenly held her, his tone filled with heartache, something rare for him, and no one knew that his heart was bleeding. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on novel[f]ire.net
Eva Nightingale habitually wriggled under the blanket.
She committed the "morning cuteness" again, teetering with hyperactivity, snuggling all around under the blanket.
She wanted to touch something hard, what is it?
Curiously, in her "dream," she reached out to poke that thing, hmm...
It seemed like a "stick."
Curiously, without any restraint, she reached out and grabbed it, seized that "stick," hmm, don’t ask why she grabbed it, because that stick was poking her leg, making her restless in her sleep.
She grabbed it and held it while she slept.
She fell asleep again.
Because she was sleeping in his embrace, it was incredibly warm, and lately, she was sleepy due to pregnancy, feeling like she could never sleep enough.
She was so willful, holding onto what she thought was a stick, and fell asleep again, burying her small face in his chest, separated by the robe.
He was wearing a rather thick robe, he hadn’t taken off his clothes.
His chest was wrapped with several layers of thick bandages.
He curled his lips, his chin brushing against her head, his deep, narrow phoenix eyes slightly squinting, extremely dangerous.
Little woman, was she doing it on purpose?
She deliberately grabbed his thing, occasionally moving it, setting his body ablaze.
Mm, little woman, last night she clung to his waist so tightly, tighter and tighter, refusing to let go, holding him, softly, ’Husband, harder,’ ’Husband love you mm,’ ’Husband mm not too hard’...
Could he go hard? Huh?
There were two little buns in her belly.
How could he use force?
Thinking back, last night, she really seemed like a little fairy, she really demanded his life.
She was holding his thing, he couldn’t take it.
But she was asleep, only moving a bit, then tightened her grip on the "stick," continuing to sleep soundly.