Amelia Clarke's hand pressed against Owen Moreland's shoulder.
Through a layer of fabric, she could clearly feel the burning warmth of his skin, a sensation that set her heart pounding.
Owen Moreland's usually deep eyes now appeared unfathomably dark, like a lion lurking in the brush, fixedly staring at its prey, radiating a dangerous light.
Amelia's face briefly registered fright as she struggled, seeking to escape. Just moments ago, she had been overwhelmed by emotion, not expecting to find herself in such an awkward and perilous situation.
Owen lifted his hand to crush the cigarette butt, casually tossing it beside the wheel of the wheelchair, with one hand firmly gripping Amelia's waist, and the other capturing her chin, lifting it slightly. Amelia keenly smelled the unburned tobacco odor on his hand.
"I gave you a chance to leave just now, but you came to me of your own accord," he said.
With the taste of tobacco, his kiss and words simultaneously descended upon her.
