The temperature in the bathroom suddenly soared.
After the kiss ended, Adam Sinclair released his grip on her hand. Olivia Lewis caught her breath, her cheeks flushed as she wiped the corners of her mouth with her hand.
Just as her fingertips touched her lips, a stinging sensation spread across them.
Without needing a mirror, she knew her lips must have swollen from the kiss.
She really wanted to take a photo and show it to the other female stars in the entertainment industry, to let them see how fierce the kisses of the gentlemanly, aristocratic man they spoke of could be; he was definitely a seemingly cultured scoundrel's little wolf dog.
Indeed, how could Adam Sinclair truly be as nonchalant and elegantly indifferent as he appeared to be?
After all, his good friends Young Master Lawrence and Young Master Harris were lions in their own right.
No matter what, Adam Sinclair couldn't possibly be just a cat.
