She wasn't sure if Owen Moreland would drink at the banquet, she was just being cautious.
After his bath, Owen Moreland walked out to find a bowl of porridge and a bowl of hangover soup on the round coffee table.
He wiped his hair and walked over, wearing only boxers, his tight muscles and bulging veins showcasing a sense of masculine power.
Amelia Clarke lifted her head and couldn't help but feel her heart race upon seeing him.
The man was tall and had long legs, his body proportions close to the golden ratio, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, eight-pack abs, adonis belt, full and firm pectorals, strong and powerful arms - he had every hallmark of a good male physique without missing a single one, yet his muscles weren't overly huge and exaggerated like those of bodybuilders; his were just the right kind of attractive.
Perhaps Amelia Clarke's gaze was too straightforward, Owen Moreland lifted his eyelids and looked over, "Do you like what you see?"
