A void appeared before her eyes, and even the last shred of reason in her nerves had been burned away.
Elise Don stood there, ashamed, embarrassed, at a loss for words, not even daring to look at Oliver Bloom.
Yet, Oliver Bloom was incredibly patient, waiting for her to come back to her senses while slowly withdrawing his fingers and wiping them with a tissue, first the index finger, then the middle finger, his palms were all wet, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
Elise Don felt even more utterly humiliated, her whole face turning into a small furnace.
She thought that Oliver Bloom's act of wiping his hands in front of her carried a certain malice.
She came back to her senses, quickly tugged her dress, intending to get up.
Oliver Bloom wasn't ready to end it casually.
With a long arm blocking her, he had an attitude that allowed no resistance.
