But who could have imagined that in just seven years, the moonlight of yesteryear would have fallen into dust and become something even it despised?
Clara returned home, there was a pair of unfamiliar stiletto sandals in the entryway. The delicate, off-white heels clashed with the uniform flat shoes in her shoe cabinet.
She tiptoed upstairs. The door to the master bedroom was ajar, and an embarrassing sound leaked out from a narrow crack.
Liam stood by the window with his back to the door, his expensive custom-made suit casually tossed on the carpet, his shirt mostly unbuttoned, revealing his well-defined back.
Heavy, panting breaths mixed with suppressed groans came through the phone screen, his voice, thick with lust, pierced Clara 's ears with each word: "This waist... if only I could pinch it and do it again..."
Clara turned away expressionlessly, her fingertips icy cold.