His expression grew stern.

He gently pinched Hannah’s cheek, forcing her to look at him.

“Hannah.

His voice snapped her back to the moment.

She felt weak in her waist and legs, completely vulnerable to the man before her.

Bryson drew nearer, his intense gaze locked on hers.

“Do you love me?”

Overwhelmed by the pleasure, she struggled to form words.

Distracted, she whispered, “Yes, I… I do…”

her response, and

“Ha… Ah!”

so she screamed and gripped Bryson’s back

by the pain and nestled

repeated his question softly,

“Do you love me?”

“Do you love me?”

“Do you love me?”

repeated questions, like an unexpected

found it

a knock resounded at

Knock! Knock! Knock!

her to tighten her grip

groan and looked up,

“Who… Who is it?”

best to sound normal, trying to keep her

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