...
Faye Owen's alluring eyes widened, swept up and down by the cadence of Yves King's speech. Especially the last sentence, sweet talk that drunkenly seeped into her heart, made her feel exceptionally joyful. Her cheeks flushed red, her eyes hazy with inebriation, and amidst the turmoil in her heart, even her breathing grew rapid.
Scoundrels will be scoundrels, even just uttering a few cajoling words could create so much suspense. Her soft and feeble fists gently pounded on his chest once. Leaning into her drunkenness, she suddenly pressed her lips to his face, giving him a light, painless kiss, and then, still drunk, she hummed, "There, you've passed this time, consider this your reward."
