Her bright eyes sparkled with a clear autumnal light, clear and beautiful, utterly captivating.
Though she hadn't said a word or opened her mouth, just looking at him like that was enough to unsettle Sylvan Cheney.
He sighed inwardly, this woman was nothing short of trouble.
Jasmine Yale's face was rosy, without a touch of makeup, and her jet-black hair cascaded down, spread over the pillow and her shoulders, highlighting her skin, making it even more fair, pristine, like a seventeen or eighteen-year-old girl, with lips shining with a dewy gloss, like a peach after the rain, uniquely fragrant and beautiful.
She stared at him for a long time before finally looking away.
She didn't move, merely remained silent.
"I bought porridge, get up and eat." He stood in place, speaking indifferently, yet there was a hint of command in his tone.
"Not eating." She closed her eyes, her arm still resting on her forehead.
