With their palms pressed tightly together, Lianne could clearly feel Seth Sinclair's warmth.
A somatic memory surfaced, reminding her of the recent, searing sensation—like drowning in a heatwave.
Lianne was quick to think rationally, but her emotional responses always lagged a beat behind. She had followed her instincts, acting with wild abandon, and only now did a belated sense of shame wash over her.
The rainy night, the lounge in the manor, the two of them impeccably dressed.
Beneath his refined and luxurious attire, his strength was utterly savage.
Seth Sinclair glanced sideways, noticing the fair skin behind Lianne's ears slowly suffuse with a pink blush.
He waited with leisurely amusement, letting her blush deepen to a ripe crimson, ready for the picking, before he finally spoke. "What are you thinking about?"
Lianne collected her thoughts, feigning composure. "I was thinking about the assignment from Professor Lowell."
