Serena instinctively grabbed Adrian's hand. Hearing his familiar voice, she couldn't help squeezing it tighter.
The man's palm was broad and dry, his finger bones hard, his hand warm with a rough texture, covering her eyes and making her eyelids flush with warmth.
Three seconds later, Serena pulled down his hand and turned around at the same time.
Her vision returned. A crisp, perfectly pressed white shirt appeared before her; Adrian stood there, slightly disheveled yet tall, effortlessly filling out the shirt's clean lines. He looked so casually lazy.
Serena's gaze slowly traveled upward from his waist and abdomen, only to crash unexpectedly into his lowered eyes.
Those black eyes were as bottomless as a frozen pond, yet glinted with a kind of wild brightness as if they'd been washed by water.
They were too close. A strange sense of familiarity flared in Serena's chest, a dizzy recollection of their past together.
