Just as the scarf was about to be tied, Jasmine Yale stood on tiptoe, suddenly hugged Sylvan Cheney's neck, and pressed a kiss onto his cool lips.
His lips were very cool.
Without a bit of warmth.
Her burning red lips wantonly pressed against his for over ten seconds, the motions somewhat awkward.
Sylvan Cheney's large hand supported her waist, and after she had kissed for a while, he pulled her away: "Alright, let's go, head home."
Jasmine Yale couldn't deepen the kiss, only pressed on his lips.
His clean scent carried a hint of wine, along with an elusive tobacco aroma.
"Mm, let's go home." She was rather cheerful, "Let me have my fill of kisses at home, alright?"
Sylvan Cheney wrapped her waist: "Sure."
Jasmine Yale leaned against his side, close together, sometimes even putting her hand into his pocket to warm up.
They left the restaurant.
