Attending to the Delicate Young Lady

"I, I, I suddenly changed my mind..." Cynthia stammered.

She struggled, attempting to free herself from Tristan's restraint. However, Tristan flipped over, once again pressing her beneath him. One arm propped above her head, the other grasped her chin, firmly imprisoning her in his embrace. "Darling, words spoken are like water poured out. How can you change your mind?"

His deep, cold voice carried a seductive magnetism, especially alluring.

Cynthia's heart trembled sharply; the tips of her fingers on his chest slightly curled. Their eyes locked unexpectedly.

Cynthia's eyes collided with his deep, profound, and dark eyes, firmly entrapped within. Her heart suddenly seemed to be grasped by something, her breath catching.

In the next moment, the man's figure descended, and Cynthia instinctively closed her eyes. Accompanied by the cool breath that came rushing, Tristan forcefully and dominantly seized her lips.