Filled with Unspoken Tenderness

After the kiss, Cynthia's lips were slightly swollen, and she leaned against his chest with unsteady breath. Her gaze revealed the wrinkled shirt caused by her own grip.

Tristan kissed her forehead, then bent down, lifted her horizontally, and got into the car. Inside the car, Cynthia leaned on Tristan's shoulder, allowing him to hold her hand, fingers interlocked. With one hand around Cynthia's waist, he lifted her up, holding her in his arms.

Cynthia sat in his embrace, looking up at the man in front of her. The man's pitch-black eyes were like a bottomless abyss, containing unspoken tenderness that was irresistible, and it was easy to get lost in it.

"No matter what happens, you still have me," his deep, magnetic voice slowly echoed in Cynthia's ears.

The man's slightly cool fingertips gently brushed across her eyebrows and eyes, as if touching her heart, stirring a tingling sensation.