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Chapter 1302
Luther gently stroked her cheek, which was more flushed from the bath.
He knew that the hot water intensified the effect of the alcol in her system.
Sure enough, she opened her misty eyes, looked at him, and stretched out her arms to pull him closer, ", handsome, ccloser
and letsee."
Luther inclined his head and smiled low, and indeed, as expected.
As he too got into bed, the weight made the soft bed sink even further.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, "Is that close enough?"
"Mmm." Joyce's eyes contained a dense mist of water as she reached out to caress his chiseled profile.
"Handsman, you look like you look familiar. Well, let's see." She struggled to recall, looking adorable.
Luther couldn't help but pinch her puffy cheeks, and as much as he wanted to have her at the moment, at least she had to know
that he was who he was.
"So, think about it, who am I?" He rubbed his long fingers over her lips.
Longing for too long, he couldn't resist leaning in and gently touching her lips.
"Obnoxious." Joyce slapped him drunkenly, " yeah, | remember, you're obnoxious Luther."
Luther, "..."
Disgruntled, he asked, "How am | annoying?"
Suddenly, he wanted to take advantage of this opportunity to set her words.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt"You're bad, always bullying..." she clenched her fist and smashed it into his chest. Too drunk to make a strong effort,
smashing out her fist, it was like hitting cotton.
"Bad man, | hate you, | hate you ..." she muttered in a daze.
Luther's heart choked, was this what was in her heart? She had always hated him, always hated him, and when the wine cout,
she must have been telling the truth. He felt himself hurt, his heart torn like pain.
He put so much effort into it, and in the end, she actually kept hating him.
Her cottony fist kept landing on his chest, not hurting at all, but he felt a real sharp pain.
How much more can | try to get her forgiveness?
He was suddenly desperate.
He grabbed her hand, drinking but completely clear black eyes fixed on her, full of pain.
"If you hate me, why didn't you shootin the first place?"
He took her hand and pulled it to his heart, pointing to the spot where she had shot him last tin front of Charlotte.
"Tellwhy you didn't shootwhen you had the chance, if you hated me. You know, as long as it was you who shot me, |
willingly suffered death." He asked bitterly.
Joyce lifted her confused eyes, she was too drunk.
Completely unaware of what she was doing, she reached out and repeatedly stroked his cheek.
He held his breath, waiting for her answer. Like waiting for the ultimate judgment.
It feels like his heart is breaking little by little, is it really impossible to recover from the wounds he once suffered? His eyes,
showing sorrow and pain.
She suddenly, gently smiled, "Well. Hate you, but love you more."
Luther was stunned and half-heartedly failed to respond.
As if not sure, he asked again, "What did you just say?"
She "giggled" and laughed enchantingly, "Idiot, | said, love you more!"
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