Holly Winslow was stunned for a few seconds. Mortimer Quincy watched her, chuckling under his breath. He was dying to fucking ravage her, to kiss her fiercely a couple of times, and then run his hands all over her.
The angle was a bit awkward. Everyone only saw the "cousins" hugging; they didn't see Mortimer Quincy's kiss.
Holly Winslow got off Mortimer Quincy, her face flushed red. She glanced around and saw no strange looks, then indignantly whispered, "You call this 'asking'?"
"You could call it a preemptive strike." Mortimer Quincy tilted his head, a charming smile playing on his lips.
'I'm a goner.'
Holly Winslow had zero resistance to Scholar Quincy's charm—that much was already proven. She pouted. "Don't just kiss me whenever you feel like it."
Mortimer Quincy considered this seriously for a moment. In his magnetic voice, he said, "It wasn't whenever I felt like it. I was very serious."
Holly Winslow: "..."
