Anthony Davis's Face was flushed, his Shirt unbuttoned, revealing a stretch of smooth, tight chest muscles, irresistibly enticing in a way that was hard to describe. He nodded, a half-smile playing on his Face: "Mm, it really wasn't what I thought."
Emilia Johnny had no idea if he'd sobered up or was still drunk, but his Eyes were exceptionally bright, as if they were saying: Go on, explain. I'm not buying it anyway.
Emilia Johnny felt like she'd reached the point where even if her whole body were a mouth, she couldn't explain herself clearly. She really wanted to explain, "Just now, I only… only…"
She realized that no matter how she tried to explain this, it wouldn't sound good.
Anthony Davis was still lying there without moving. He said, "Go on."
Emilia Johnny shook her head. "No no no… forget it…"
He actually told her to continue?
Oh God, what on earth did he mean by that?
