She was startled and before she could react, Morgan Benson's arm swept around her, lifting her up directly.
"Brother Morgan..." she exclaimed, but by the time she came to her senses, she had already left the passenger seat and was sitting on the man's lap.
Straddling the man, with the steering wheel right behind her, her instinctive reaction upon sitting down was to grab the man's shirt by the shoulders.
"..." The distance between them was merely a few dozen centimeters, and she was wearing denim shorts today, her long, fair legs draped across the man's lap, creating an intensely suggestive scene.
His breath was so close, Kaitlyn Webb suddenly dared not breathe, her palms pressed tightly against the man's shoulders. She had never felt his body heat so clearly, the scorching temperature seeming to scorch her skin through the thin fabric.
Morgan remained silent, his lips curled up slightly as he gazed at her, which only made the atmosphere in the car even more quiet and ambiguous.
