Jasmine Yale stepped on the carpet, struggling to control her rapidly beating heart and the emotions that spread from it.
Her heart was almost leaping out of her throat.
In the darkness, she couldn't see the person who had arrived, but amid the strong alcohol odor, she faintly made out the familiar scent of Agarwood Fragrance.
The scent on him was too familiar to her, so familiar it reached its peak, familiar for sixteen years.
Because of this familiarity, Jasmine's fingers trembled, her long eyelashes fluttering intensely in the dark.
His hand, somewhat rough, gently stroked her cheek.
This kiss never stopped.
He didn't let her go, so she couldn't pull away.
Sylvan Cheney was tall, and Jasmine Yale was never his match.
Jasmine Yale was kissed to the point of suffocation, uncomfortably tilting her head back, her fingers constantly moving.
The hallway was too dark; she couldn't see his expression, she didn't even know why he had come...
Why had he come?