Feng Yexuan's heartbeat inexplicably sped up a little.
His breathing was heavy, hurried, and a bit difficult.
His large palm lifted, and his long fingers landed on her lips, gently grinding against them.
He had tasted these thin lips, fragrant, sweet, one kiss was like pouring honey down his throat.
Sweet and tingling...
He didn't know when, but he leaned in, and his thin lips were very, very close to her's.
At such close quarters, every breath she exhaled fell without fail on the tip of his nose.
Feng Yexuan's voice gradually became hoarse, low, "Tell me you never thought about divorcing me, that they forced you to do it."
Chu Qianli looked at him.
Looking at the man's face, she couldn't tell if it was because they were so close or because she was drunk, but anyway, she couldn't see clearly.
But his breath was indescribably familiar.
She bit her lower lip and suddenly curved it into a smile, "I don't want you."