In the end, Annie Anne could only feel the faint pounding in her chest by holding her breath.
Everything had changed, nothing was the sa anymore.
"Annie."
Oliver Hudson murmured with satisfaction, the sowhat childish nickna finally slipping off his lips as he let go of Annie Anne, their eyes locking.
"I don’t like it, nor do I want you to appear in places like this, at occasions such as that one."
The pads of Oliver Hudson’s fingers glided across Annie Anne’s cheek, brushing back strands of hair that clung there.
Though his tone was the most affectionate, the command within it left no room for resistance.
"If Annie doesn’t behave, I don’t know what I’d do... sothing you wouldn’t like."
The words, almost whispered in Annie Anne’s ear, were t with a hint of a smile in her eyes.
Her slender fingertips touched the underside of Oliver Hudson’s jaw, then trailed down his throat, stopping finally at the button near his collarbone.
She teased up a smile at the corner of her lips, intentionally curling her fingertip, even purposefully mimicking that pretentious, affected voice.
"Mr. Hudson, why are you here all alone?"
Just like that woman.
Whether in gesture or tone of voice, perhaps even in thought, they were the sa.
Oliver Hudson’s pupils tightened as he moved slightly closer to Annie Anne: "I’m waiting for soone."
Indeed, all of this was her deliberate doing.
What she wanted was to make herself seen by him.
Just then, Annie Anne’s smile blossod dazzlingly, like an enchanting flower blooming on a desolate branch.
Her fingertips gripped Oliver Hudson’s button, slowly undoing it, revealing his robust chest and smooth skin beneath.
Annie Anne tilted her head slightly as she saw Oliver Hudson’s eyes darken, while her other hand reached for the wall.
Click.
The familiar sound—only this ti, darkness swiftly enveloped them.
"Mr. Hudson, I think I’m drunk..."
Annie Anne’s voice flitted through the air like a tender feather.
"What should I do now?"
She pressed herself against Oliver Hudson’s ear, kissing the side of his face.
No feigned behavior was necessary anymore to drive Oliver Hudson wild.
Annie Anne alone sufficed.
The crescendo of breaths wove an intimate lody; in the night where dark clouds veiled the moon, the thick moonlight spun a web, tightly ensnaring both their exposed bodies and sealed-off hearts.
...
A sweet dream was shattered by the vibration of a cellphone.
Charlotte Thompson furrowed her brows, reaching for the phone on the nightstand.
Unexpectedly, the mont Charlotte touched her phone, the vibration ceased, yet it had already awakened both her and Justin Battleson.
"What’s wrong?"
Justin Battleson’s voice was sowhat hoarse as the dim light from Charlotte’s phone illuminated half her face.
"Who would call so late?"
Rubbing her eyes, Charlotte looked at her phone to find the caller was an utterly unfamiliar number.
Since the ring hadn’t lasted long, Charlotte chose to silence her phone imdiately.
"Perhaps it’s a wrong number," Charlotte murmured groggily, lying back down.
Justin Battleson glanced at the phone on the nightstand before drawing Charlotte into his arms, bending his head to kiss her forehead.
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