Their breaths interweaved and tangled with each other, growing more and more intense.
Lyra Smith was almost overwhelmed.
Seizing the opportunity to catch her breath, she nervously shrank her neck, pulling her head back. Morris Jackson easily brought her back, his voice hoarse: "Don't hide."
He supported himself with his arm, imprisoning her in his embrace.
Lyra obediently stopped hiding, but somehow her hand gripped the cufflink of his black shirt hidden inside his jacket.
The space inside the car was cramped. Lyra felt uncomfortable being pressed like this. As she tried to move, she accidentally yanked his cufflink off.
A soft sound, distinct and abrupt, echoed in the quiet space.
Lyra tried to pull back her hand in embarrassment, but Morris caught her wrist: "Open."
Lyra opened her hand obediently.
A delicate cufflink lay in her palm, the very one she had just pulled off from Morris's shirt.
