Mu Liang's grip was too strong, and it hurt her. Qiao Xia had rather delicate skin and was prone to bruising. He was always careful with his strength, but even so, every time afterwards, her skin would be marked by their lovemaking.
This time his grip was uncontrolled, and naturally, Qiao Xia felt pain.
Mu Liang instantly sobered up, his forehead pressed against hers, his eyes deep and gloomy, dark and bright, his breathing rough, his whole body tensed like a rock as he looked at the woman beneath him.
Her clothes half-removed, a trail of marks along her collarbone, her lips bright red, her gaze hazy—this was the Qiao Xia he knew, yet it wasn't the Qiao Xia he knew.
All desire drained from Mu Liang's body, and Qiao Xia, though somewhat afraid, reached out and touched Mu Liang's face.
His skin was burning hot.
His eyes held a madness.
"What's wrong with you?" he looked very sad.
Had she hurt him?