Bedroom doorway.
Lucy Ansley patted the man's shoulder, "I can walk by myself."
Even though it was still early, being carried horizontally into the bedroom could easily stir up thoughts.
Especially as Lucy grew more accustomed to Henry Ronan's presence, their physical contact became more natural, even... anticipated.
However, the man's arms did not loosen in the slightest; he still held her tightly and side-stepped into the room.
Lucy kicked her legs, her voice softened, "Aren't you tired... hey..."
Before she could finish her words, their bodies simultaneously fell onto the bed.
Lucy was dazed for a second, her long hair splayed out, staring wide-eyed at the man above her.
Henry Ronan had one knee bent against her waist, leaning down to look at her.
The ambiguous atmosphere reached its peak, and just as Lucy realized, the man had already pressed down onto her.
Lucy instinctively closed her eyes, her lips captured, arms pulled to circle Henry's shoulders.
