Amelia Clarke finished speaking, and Owen Moreland just looked at her, his gaze calm and serene; yet it was this serenity that gradually evoked a sense of nervousness in Amelia Clarke, as though she'd done something wrong.
She replayed their conversation in her mind and truly couldn't find anything she had said amiss.
Owen Moreland's figure suddenly moved, his long legs striding toward Amelia Clarke, revealing the muscular calves under his robe's hem.
The aura about him seemed to materialize, pushing Amelia Clarke involuntarily back with his approach.
Until she was cornered, her back against the cold wall, the man before her closing in, his shadow looming.
Her heart raced, her gaze lowered, daring not to look into the man's eyes. As the man slowly pressed closer, she could even hear his gentle yet powerful breaths, feel the mix of a mature man's scent and tobacco on her neck, faintly laced with the hint of alcohol.
It was ticklish and numb, inducing shivers.