Pressing Against Her Bit by Bit
Tristan walked in from outside, seeing Cynthia in a panicked state. He raised an eyebrow slightly, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing..." Cynthia hurriedly lowered her eyes, not daring to meet his gaze. She always felt that a man's sharp gaze could see through her.
Tristan slowly approached, gradually pushing her back against the wardrobe. Suddenly, he extended his arm, propping it beside her head, and leaned down slowly. His exquisite and stunning face pressed against Cynthia bit by bit, their breaths mingling.
Cynthia's disheveled eyelashes trembled nervously.
"But you're obviously hiding something from me." Tristan extended his finger, lifting her chin, staring at her intently.
This woman was good in every way, except for one thing—she wasn't good at lying. Every time she lied, her eyes would wander, as if she had done something guilty.