...
"Ah~" Faye Owen suddenly moaned blushing, her body going soft as she was unexpectedly pinned to the couch by Yves King.
"This rascal." Faye Owen whispered under her breath, her cheeks fiery red. She glared at him, wanting to pull his ear but stopped midway. He was nestled in her arms, eyes tightly closed. His typically rugged face appeared tranquil and peaceful at the moment.
He was entirely different from his usual self, neither arrogant nor domineering. But the current him seemed so serene and natural. He looked like a newborn, pure and innocent. All this evoked a maternal instinct in Faye Owen. Seeing his adorable side, she yearned to caress his face and shower him with love.
About ten minutes later, Yves King's breathing grew heavier as if he had fallen into a deep sleep. Quietly lying in Faye Owen's embrace, he seemed less self-sufficient than a grown man nearing thirty should.