Delphine's thoughts were laid bare by his words. Seeing him so angry, it was clear he didn't want to get involved. Her eyes reddened, and she reached out to shove him, coldly saying, "I'm going to see her. I'm not asking you to do anything."
Ignatius Leclair nearly choked on his breath and felt even more irritated watching her cry over someone unrelated. He lowered his head, kissing her eyes—not gently like before, but with a fierceness fueled by the fire inside him.
Delphine was kissed so hard that she couldn't breathe, her eyes swelling with pain as if they were on the verge of exploding. Struggling only spurred him to use even greater force.
In the messy entanglement of their struggle, faces brushing, their clothes became disheveled, and their breathing grew ragged.
"You are not going to Switzerland." Ignatius's voice was hoarse, laced with suppressed intensity. His hand clasped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
