Amelia Clarke, as if she heard nothing, kept kissing his skin as she pushed him back until she had him pinned down on the bed.
"Amelia..." Owen Moreland cupped her face.
Amelia Clarke bowed her head and kissed his rough and broad palm, saying, "I've never kissed you properly, let me give you a proper kiss."
With that, she moved up a bit, took his lips in hers, then kissed his cheek.
Her kisses were awkward and unrestrained—an Amelia Clarke that Owen Moreland had never experienced; his deep eyes held a trace of interest.
However, as soon as the girl's fingertips touched his waist, the interest in the man's eyes quickly disappeared.
"Amelia." Sensing what she intended to do, Owen Moreland stopped her movements, "Know what you're doing."
Amelia Clarke looked up, her gaze incredibly serious yet tinged with a bit of shyness and coquettishness, "I'm very clear-headed."
...