192: The Origin of the Necklace

The girl's enthusiasm was quite sudden, yet Owen Moreland still managed to stabilize Amelia Clarke's figure in time, preventing her stomach from bumping into him.

His lips were met with hers, soft and bringing with them the unique scent of a young lady, mingled with the cool taste of mild mint toothpaste.

Cradling a tender beauty in his arms, Owen enjoyed her initiative, his hands caressing her back.

After a moment,

Amelia suddenly raised her head, her gaze somewhat reproachful, "You've been drinking."

She had tasted the faint scent of alcohol in his mouth, albeit very light.

Owen didn't deny it, "Couldn't refuse, I had one drink."

"Didn't you say you'd stop drinking? Your stomach isn't fully healed yet." Amelia propped herself up on the swing cushion, rising halfway, her small hand reaching for his stomach, "Does it hurt?"

Owen fixed his eyes on her intently, lifting his hand to her cheek, his thumb gently caressing her smooth skin, "I'm okay."