The Eldest Young Master Shaw wrapped his arm around her slim waist, lowered his head slightly, pressed his forehead to hers, and spoke in a low, seductive voice, "Do you still remember how we used to kiss?"
How did they kiss?
They'd kissed far too many times before, and each time was different.
At home, outside, in bed, off the bed, sometimes innocent, sometimes delirious with passion; in front of others, in complete solitude; teasing pecks and tangled, deep kisses…
Inside the car, it was utterly silent, shadowy light flickering—robbed of sight, every other sense became acutely sensitive.
Serena heard the thunderous pounding of a heartbeat—so loud she couldn't tell if it was hers or his.
Her cheeks burned, alcohol numbing her brain, but she still struggled to draw a line: "I don't remember."
Serena fought to regain her composure, turned her head, and said politely, "Thank you, I can get a cab home myself. No need to trouble you further. Goodbye."
