"Do you like me?"
He looked at the woman in front of him through drowsy, half-awake eyes, obedient like a little white rabbit—was this his Avery Jane?
He closed his eyes, his thick eyelashes trembling lightly. That kind of sorrowful expression made anyone who saw it feel their heart crack.
"I do." The girl's voice was soft, like a breeze brushing past.
He'd drunk too much, yet his mind was still in such a mess that he didn't even hear the girl's "I do." Lazily leaning back on the sofa, one hand holding a glass of liquor, he used the other to undo the buttons of his shirt, exposing in an instant a rugged, sexy collarbone and a small expanse of solid chest.
"Why don't you want to do it with me? Is it really that unbearable?" He tossed back the liquor in his glass in one gulp; maybe only with the courage of alcohol could he bring himself to ask.
