Now fully bare, Ross looked at her—the cap on her head, the jacket draped over her shoulders, the rest of her clothes still clinging to her—and a dark, satisfied smile curved his lips.
His gaze lingered on her, tracing every line, every curve, appreciating the purity of what was before him.
Tonight, he thought, he would savor every inch of this precious gift.
Each layer of clothing, each subtle shiver she gave under his scrutiny, was a promise—one he intended to unwrap slowly, meticulously, for his own indulgence and pleasure.
Ross moved closer, the warmth radiating from his body brushing against hers.
Karen's pulse quickened as she realized the moment was no longer just about anticipation—it was about surrender, trust, and the delicious tension of what was to come.
Ross started by unclasping the cap and tossing it aside with a casual flick of his wrist.
The cap spun through the air and landed with a soft thud on the nearby table, forgotten in the heat of the moment.
