Isabella Weaver had nowhere to gain leverage, so she could only wrap her arms around Harry Hunter's neck, which made them seem even more intimate.
His kiss was so intense, filled with a desire that left her both thrilled and frightened, as if he wanted to swallow her whole.
She finally managed to catch her breath and complained to Harry Hunter, "You hurt me…"
Harry Hunter's eyes were deep as he softly murmured, "You're such a delicate thing."
He hadn't even done anything, and she was already complaining about pain.
"Did I break my lip?"
Hearing this familiar line, Harry Hunter couldn't help but laugh, "Why are you always worried about your lips breaking? I'm not that rough. I kissed you gently; not a single break."
"Then why does it hurt?"
Harry Hunter looked down at her rosy, glistening lips, his voice husky, "They're a bit swollen." But even more beautiful and tempting, he wanted to bite them again.
"They're swollen and you still say the kiss was gentle!"
