“If you want to spend more time with me, you can keep refusing me,”

Tyrone said, his face emotionless.

Sabrina's cold stare was her only response.

Reluctantly, she placed a box of cotton swabs on the table, and sat beside Tyrone, raising her dress to her knees.

Her flawless calves were marred with bruises, including a mark where a high-heeled shoe seemed to have stepped, breaking the skin.

Tyrone's eyes softened, his fingers gently brushing Sabrina's injured calf. "Does it hurt?"

Truth be told, it didn't hurt unless pressed, but Tyrone's touch tickled her, sending chills down her spine.

“Hurry up!"

His face darkening, Tyrone applied the ointment with a touch too firm.

"Oh," Sabrina gasped, surprised by the pain. "Tyrone, be gentle!"

"I'm sorry. You said hurry up, and I didn't control my strength,"

Tyrone replied, squeezing out more ointment with deliberate slowness.

Sabrina glared at him, convinced he had done it on purpose.

The cool ointment soothed her skin, and as she looked up, she saw Tyrone's serious face, his concentration making him look as though he were handling something important.

From her perspective, his eyelashes seemed long and thick, his nose straight, his features clear.

Suddenly, Tyrone looked up, catching her eye.

Quickly looking away, Sabrina feigned disinterest.

"We are done with the medicine on your legs. Is there any other injury except on your back?" Tyrone asked, smiling.

"No."

"Then Lie prone on the sofa."