JEMIMA’S POV Arrow's voice spoke with a layer of worry, turning into me to overview the surface of my face for any signs of distress. His searching view traveled over my lips, my cheeks, my eyes, inquiring about what might be upsetting me. "What is it, Jemima? What's the problem?" he asked, brow furrowed in concern, words nearly a whisper. I chuckled and with a sly playful smile on my lips, shook my head. "Nothing, Arrow," I said, speaking almost inaudibly, a slight teasing intonation underlying every word. Arrow's narrowed eyes bore down into me as though seeking the whole truth, racing with possibilities in his head. He turned his face towards the wall, all muscles inside rigid with expectancy, body language practically jumping to compete in a tension created by a fight against my charms. "Yes, I am, my love," my voice had a low seductive growl holding words like heavy gumdrops of longing, "I'm sick, and then the doctor said I need you as my medication." Arrow drew a little
Dernière mise à jour : 2025-03-24 Read More