Damien's sincere words had an uncanny ability to coax an awkward yet genuine smile onto Rosalie's face. Her cheeks responded by taking on a subtle blush, akin to a delicate brushstroke of pink. The peculiar sensation lingered, for it remained somewhat unusual to witness the Duke engaging in such unrestrained conversation and openly baring his emotions. Yet, amid the peculiarity, there thrived an undercurrent of exhilaration, and just maybe, a sense of being uniquely cherished.
But before she could react to his words, Damien gently brushed her hair away from her neck and planted a few light kisses on it, tickling the girl's sensitive skin with his hot breath. Slowly, the man's big hand slid underneath the collar of Rosalie's white shirt, moving it down in order to reveal her right shoulder.
