The moment he heard that, his face darkened. His gaze turned gloomy and suppressed, with a strange restlessness and anger hidden beneath it.
Suddenly, he pressed me beneath him and began tearing at my clothes.
My breath was sealed off, and my strength was taken away.
I could feel his burning body, the scorching heat enough to set a person's blood boiling.
In the end, Chase was still enough of a man to stop at the critical moment. In a low, hoarse voice, he said to me, "Leave while I still have the last bit of sobriety left."
I had just stood up when I heard him say, "Nia, I'm sorry."
I turned around in surprise.
I had thought the words "I'm sorry" didn't exist in his dictionary at all.
A proud man like him always looked indifferent and aloof. I had never seen him lower that arrogan
