“You really are something…”
For a moment, Chen Qingjue did not know what to say. Her fingers tightened slightly around the teacup. She drained the last of the cool water, feeling as though every move Qu Weichen made was relentlessly testing her self-control.
“What’s wrong?”
And the worst part was that Qu seemed completely unaware. Or perhaps she was not unaware at all—perhaps she simply had far too much faith in Chen’s patience and self-control. Chen’s knuckles paled under the force of her grip. It took all her willpower to drag her gaze away from that tempting, dripping-wet peach.
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