The Institute (61)

Chu Yi lay quietly on the snow-white sheets, body reminiscent of a freshly picked flower. The penetrating, and overflowing red light in his eyes was now covered by long eyelashes. A flushed and heated appearance gave way to the charming and sultry air that was rooted deep in his bones.

Chu Yi did not wake up.

Even as cold wet hands, slowly traced the curve from his forehead to his lips, unable to resist. The slight intrusion was like cool ice being placed on the surface of a hot plate. 

From the shoulders to the back of his ears, a pale, streamlined hand slowly traced from the fragile neck to the deep collar bones.