Qin Xiaoye’s gaze met Jiang Wei’s, then his eyes slid downward.
Jiang Wei followed his gaze to herself and suddenly realized—she felt a chill. Her robe had fallen open, her fair skin blending seamlessly with the white lace camisole dress beneath, the soft curves glowing pale. Flustered, she quickly pulled her light pink silk pajama robe closed. “Sorry~”
It looked like seduction.
Qin Xiaoye looked away, his voice slightly husky. “No need.”
He walked to the wardrobe, his movements graceful and unhurried. As he removed his suit jacket, the deep blue shirt beneath stretched taut over his muscles, catching the light with a subtle sheen.
As he undressed, his voice came low and raspy: “You look beautiful.”
Jiang Wei realized what he meant, and her face flushed crimson.
As Qin Xiaoye shrugged off his suit jacket, the scent of him—mingled with the rich aroma of red wine—wafted toward her.
He’d been drinking?
Jiang Wei reached out, intending to take his jacket from him. Back when her foster father Jiang Che drank too much, she would help hang up his clothes.
Qin Xiaoye paused, turning his head. Both of them were gripping a corner of the jacket. Jiang Wei’s snow-white fingers against the black suit—slender, delicate, impossibly alluring.
He thought of those fingers trailing over his abs…
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.
Qin Xiaoye didn’t let go. Instead, he used the pull of the jacket to draw Jiang Wei toward him, the sheer force of his masculine presence enveloping her.
The jacket fell to the floor.
Qin Xiaoye’s hand settled on the small of her back. Through the thin silk of her pajamas, his warmth seeped into her, spreading through her body until she felt flushed all over.
He released her, lowering his gaze—and caught sight of that expanse of white again, making his throat run dry.
He turned and walked into the bathroom.
Steam began to rise inside.
Through the tinted glass door, Jiang Wei could make out Qin Xiaoye stripping off each piece of clothing, then stepping naked into the shower.
She could vaguely discern the lines of his muscles, his physique, and… his size.
She covered her burning cheeks with her hands.
Qin Xiaoye emerged from the bathroom wearing a black silk robe with a gray pattern, the sash loosely tied. It gave him an air of refined luxury and untamed allure, paired with his tall, inverted-triangle frame and that narrow, powerful waist—utterly provocative.
He carried the dampness of the bath, the scent of cedarwood mingling with the cologne of his body wash, aggressively intoxicating.
His Adam’s apple was prominent, bobbing with every swallow in a way that was maddeningly sensual.
His voice came low and magnetic, as if steeped in red wine, leaving her light-headed. He leaned down, his breath brushing her delicate, translucent earlobe:
“Jiang Wei, you can say no.”
Jiang Wei’s ear burned from his breath, tiny electric currents racing along her skin.
She felt dizzy. What right did she have to refuse?
Qin Xiaoye watched her, as if reading her thoughts, and spoke slowly:
“Jiang Wei, we’re husband and wife.”
“Even though I’m not in the best state right now, I won’t disregard your feelings.”
“I can control myself.”
“I can improve.”
Jiang Wei’s cheeks were scarlet, feeling scorched. “I understand.”
It was all too unfamiliar, too overwhelming—this strange tension mixed with the scent of raw attraction, almost unbearably thrilling.
Qin Xiaoye’s voice dropped, polite as he asked, “Is it alright if I take off this pink silk robe?”
Jiang Wei’s heart skipped a beat.
Her voice came out soft and breathy: “Alright.”
Every time she said “alright,” her shame deepened, and her body grew warmer by a degree.
The air grew thick, humid, and heavy.
Jiang Wei felt that scorching palm slide across her skin, lightly brushing against the nape of her neck, making her itch uncontrollably.
Jiang Wei was left completely exposed.
It was as if his gaze burned her—wherever his eyes landed, she felt that patch of skin grow hot in response, shame rising with it, her fair complexion flushing crimson.
It was like her body was being scrutinized inch by inch.
Qin Xiaoye was tall and imposing, his shadow enveloping her, making her instinctively sense danger. Goosebumps prickled across her skin, her breath quickened slightly, her eyes grew misty, her lashes trembled incessantly, and a tingling numbness spread through her body.
Jiang Wei gripped the vanity table behind her with both hands, her fingertips quivering faintly.
A cool breath of air laced with an inexplicable sense of oppression swept toward her. Jiang Wei instinctively stiffened her spine, and a sudden, inescapable dread rose in her heart.
Qin Xiaoye’s hand remained at the back of Jiang Wei’s neck, his fingertips grazing lightly over the tender skin there. Every slight movement sparked tiny electric tingles that shot through Jiang Wei, numbing and thrilling her.
The two stood very close together.
It made Jiang Wei’s fingers clench tight.
Qin Xiaoye’s hand settled on the small of her back.
Qin Xiaoye stared at her nervous face, his voice low, husky, and magnetic: “Are you afraid of me?”
Beneath Qin Xiaoye’s towering frame, Jiang Wei’s 165-centimeter height seemed petite, making her look especially soft and delicate by comparison.
Jiang Wei fluttered her thick lashes gently, a tremor of nervousness leaking into her voice as she murmured softly: “No…”
With each breath she took, a faintly sweet, ripe fruity fragrance wafted toward Qin Xiaoye’s nose, clinging to his skin and mingling with his own scent.
Beneath Qin Xiaoye’s sleepwear, something bulged.
Carrying a coiled, ready-to-strike danger.
Heat radiated from Jiang Wei’s face.