You Hit My Heart
Chapter 33

The proximity made Joyce recall the scene in the car where he put hisarm around her. She can't help but feel hot in the face.

"Just because I can shoot doesn't mean I can fight. Otherwise youwould have been taken down long ago." A woman's strength wasnaturally inferior, and with him who was strong enough, she wascompletely unable to move.

"How long have you been learning to shoot?" He asked.

"Six years." She wasn't shy about it.

Luther's pupils contracted, six years, just six years of emptiness. Whatthe hell had she been doing for those six years? And where did shelearn to shoot? And what was her relationship with Justin?

He let go of her, and there was an unreadable complexity in his eyes.Today, because of her, he was out of danger. He believed for themoment that she was harmless to him.

Luther was a little tired and reclined in bed. Having lost blood, heneeded to rest and adjust.

Joyce sat up from the bed, poured herself a glass of water, and askedhim, "Do you want some water?"

He closed his eyes and nodded gently.

Joyce handed over a glass of water.

He didn't pick up.

Did he want her to feed him? Joyce was surprised. Forgot about it.Since they would be divorced tomorrow, she had no choice but helphim for the last time.

She brought the glass to Luther's lips, tilting it slightly to let the waterflow into his mouth.

The knot in his sexy throat rolled.

"How can we sleep with only one bed? Or you can give me the car keyand I'll sleep in the car." Joyce suggested.

Luther said lightly, "How do you sleep with a broken car glass?"

Joyce pretended a unnatural smile. What should she do, sleep in thesame bed with him?

"What are you worried about?" He snorted, “I'm tired. Plus, what do youthink I'd do to a woman who's getting a divorce with me tomorrow?"Well, she had to do it.

Joyce went into the bathroom to wash up and rinse off briefly.

When she came out, she saw that Luther had fallen asleep.

The light in the room was dim. He was actually quite good-lookingwhen he was asleep with less coldness and sharpness on his face. Hiseyelashes were like a fan casting shadows. And his high nose, thin lips.All of them was quiet and harmless.

She tried to recall the man from that night, but she did not see the faceand did not have any impression of the outline.

The only thing she can be sure of was that he had an injury on his leg.She was nervous.

Should she confirm it while he was asleep?

She glanced furtively at him and approached him on tiptoe. Then shebent down on her knees. She would have rolled up his trouser legs, butthe cut was too snug to roll up. She cannot make a judgement.

What to do?

The sound of his even breathing came from him. It seemed that he wassleeping quite well.

Hesitantly, Joyce was bold enough to come forward.

With a “click” sound, she unbuckled his belt.

A flush spread over his cheeks. It was so embarrassing that she hadnever done anything like this before.

She gently tried to remove his pants, taking them off a little, and then alittle more.

However, at that moment, Luther opened his eyes abruptly. The darkeyes were like a deep and bottomless abyss. He can see hernervousness and blush. Then, there was flame burned in his cold eyes.She was so good at it. Her hands were so soft, stimulating his weaknerves.

Before his breakdown, he jerked the quilt over his legs to hide the factthat he had lost control.

Joyce was startled by the sudden movement.

"Woman, do you really think I can't do anything with this small

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