When her lips were aggressively sealed, Beatrice Hargrave finally saw who the man was, feeling a small thrill in her heart for his passion.
The taste in her mouth was familiar, a light mint mixed with the aroma of red wine, but—
Why was this man so fierce? Her lips hurt from the crushing force, and the sound of him kicking the door shut was loud.
The bang was so intense it made her heart tremble.
Although she craved his taste, Beatrice knew her current position, and besides, he was so heartless back then. Even though she couldn't forget him, she never intended to reconcile so soon.
She raised her small hand to push Nicholas Croft's body away, dodging as she said, "Uncle, have you been drinking?"
Due to Beatrice's evasion, Nicholas's lips fell onto her clavicle. She was wearing her usual nightgown, which exposed her beautiful collarbones to the air, making it convenient for him to kiss and nibble, his lips and tongue lingering momentarily with each touch.
