It was an order.
There was no room for negotiation or bargaining.
Did she want to draw a line in the sand with him so badly that she refused to accept him again, no matter how hard he tried?
So she was really determined to be a stranger to him for the rest of her life?
Melvin's lowered eyelashes trembled lightly, and his dark eyes gradually renewed a layer of gloomy mist.
The tyranny and hostility under the eyes had long disappeared.
He felt like his heart was being rubbed so hard that it hurt.
The pale and handsome face can't hide his vulnerability.
Lyra noticed his expression.
But the coldness on her face didn't change at all, and the hand that handed the document was raised.
Melvin held his breath. His fingertips trembled lightly as he took the document, feeling incomparably complicated.
Lyra was turning around to get a pen from the coffee table when she heard a "hissing" sound behind her.
Melvin's dark eyes were cold and stern, and once again he did not hesitate to tear the document to shreds.
It was even more outrageous this time. He threw the shreds at her head?
Snowy white shreds of paper fell on her head.
Provocation?
Lyra was really angry.
That fury surged, rolled, screamed and burned from the bottom to the top of her head.
She ground her teeth, "Do you wanna die?"
The man across was abashed not the least, and when he stared at her, his dark eyes were incomparably gloomy.
He moved his bony hand to the belt around his waist, unfastened the buckle sharply, and made a move to pull it out.
"What are you doing?"
Lyra stood motionless.
Was he annoyed? And he wanted to beat her up?
Oh, with his current strength, he really thought he can beat her?
She stared at him with anger glowing, grinding her teeth and waiting for him.
But the next moment, he folded his belt in half and forced it into her hand.
Then he turned around and knelt on one knee. His broad back was extraordinarily straight with only a white shirt on.
He said, "I won't obey this order. I make you angry. I admit and you can whip me as a punishment! Whip until you feel good, until you are relieved!"
Lyra was stunned.
What was it?
Her fury was ready to come out and suddenly ... she laughed!?
"Are you out of your mind? What is the fetish? Are you a fucking masochist?"
Melvin bit his lower lip, and his eyes were slightly red.
He was not a masochist.
Even though he had suffered and been injured in the army before, he was still afraid of pain.
But more than the pain, he did not want to lose her, did not want to be a stranger with her, then he would felt suffocated.
"All of this is just for you! I'm desperately trying to pay off my debt to you, not to be a stranger to you, but I want you to give me a chance to start over. I really like you!"
He talked too much at once and his throat was dry and unbearable. Then he coughed so hard which caused his shoulders tremble lightly but his back remained straight.
"Like me?"
Lyra's red lips were pursed and she looked down at him quietly for a moment.
Her eyes were as cold as death, and her tone was like a mixture of ice crumbs, without temperature.
"This is three years late. I no longer want it. For me, late love is cheap."
"Want to start over? Impossible."
Melvin gasped painfully, "I'm sorry ..."
He clenched both fists and sniffled. Resigning himself, he closed his eyes, "Then you can beat me. It is absolutely impossible to let me sign this anyway."
Lyra listened to him and frowned, "The fever made you silly? You just recovered and weak. How many strokes can you withstand if I really hit you hard?"
She also knew that he had just recovered from a fever ...
Melvin felt extremely aggrieved.
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