The next day.
Keane Lowell woke up from his wine slumber.
Without opening his eyes, he could feel the soft fragrance in his arms.
He didn't have a strong impression of what happened last night or when the young girl came over to him.
But it didn't matter; as long as she was there, it was fine.
He held her warmly for a while, then released her, gently lifted the quilt, got out of bed quietly, picked up the clothes that had fallen on the floor, found clean clothes from the cabinet, and headed to the bathroom.
After washing away the smell of alcohol.
He returned to the bedroom, and she was still asleep.
He glanced at the clock on the wall; it was seven o'clock.
Which wasn't considered early for her.
He sat on the edge of the bed, watched the person lying peacefully in sleep for a moment, and suddenly leaned over to kiss those tender lips.
Claire Prescott uneasily avoided it and groggily woke up, hearing the man's deep and unique voice.
