Matthew’s kissing skills were impeccable.
His kisses had always been domineering, tinged with a casual tease and allure, slow-paced yet full of possessiveness.
Emma was not skilled in this area—actually, she was entirely inexperienced. What little she knew all came from Matthew. During their first kiss, she had been both excited and nervous, only learning about the need to breathe properly after being taught by him, and he had teased her about it for a long time.
Even now, she still couldn’t resist Matthew. His kisses left her weak in the knees and hands, but she noticed something was different this time.
His kiss was especially tender and lingering, so much so that she could sense a hint of reluctance and despair.
Despair?
Emma didn’t understand why. Half leaning against the table,
