Isaldora stepped out of the shower, the steam still clinging to her body, curling around like a cloud. She padded into the bedroom, leaving damp footprints on the cool floor, and vigorously rubbed her wet hair with a towel, the soft cotton absorbing the droplets that traced paths down her back.
The moment she got back, she scrambled straight under the hot water. And now she felt loose and relaxed after washing off the sweat from her workout.
Damn, I feel fucking good.
A soft sigh escaped her lips as she took a step toward her dresser, where she laid her clothes. She removed the towel around her body, dropping it to the floor at her feet. She stretched slightly as the cool air of the room hit her warm skin.
She was about to slip into her undies when she heard a throat clearing behind her.
"Ahem,"
She yelped and her head snapped toward the sound so fast it could have definitely given her whiplash. The moment she saw the person, her blood ran cold.
Kaelith was sitting with his back leaning comfortably against the headboard like he owned the damn place, his arms crossed over his broad chest. A dark, amused, and intensely heated smirk played on his lips.
His eyes, dark and heated, swept over her in one slow, deliberate motion before he let out a low, appreciative whistle.
"Well, hello there, beautiful," he said, his voice a rough murmur.
For a heartbeat, she was frozen, her mind going hellish blank.
How long had he been here? How did he even get in? Didn't she lock the door?
Then, reality crashed down on her like a bucket of ice water. A hot, mortified flush exploded from her chest, racing up her neck and burning her cheeks. She was standing in the middle of her room, buck-ass naked.
"Oh My God!" she yelped, stumbling back a step, her arms instinctively crossing over her chest. "You—you fucking pervert!" she shrieked, her voice pitching high with a mix of rage and sheer panic. Her hand scrambled across the dresser, closing around the first solid thing it found—a small, decorative potted succulent—and hurled it straight at his head.
She scrambled, nearly tripping over the stupid towel on the floor. She snatched it up, fumbling wildly as she tried to yank it back desperately around herself, her face burning hotter than the surface of the sun.
Kaelith caught the plant with infuriating ease, barely moving a muscle. He set it down on the bedside table, completely unharmed.
His eyes continued to rake over her, and a fresh wave of heat—one that had nothing to do with embarrassment—crept over her skin as she followed his gaze.
Asshole. Her 'assets' were mostly covered now, but it was way too damn late. He'd already gotten a goddamn eyeful.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. So disappointing," he clucked, a playful, disappointed sigh. "I was enjoying such a… wonderful view. Didn't even get a proper look before you went all ninja on me."
"Fuck you!" she snapped as she clutched the towel that somehow now wasn't doing a wonderful job at hiding what mattered.
"Gladly," he shot back, grin turning wolfish.
Her jaw dropped. "You—you absolute creep!"
"What the hell are you even doing in here?!" she yelled, her voice jumping an octave. She clutched the towel like a shield, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Get out of my room!"
She looked for something else to throw at him again. She grabbed a small, decorative crystal vase next—and hurled it at him again with all her strength.
And again with impossible speed, he caught the too. Of course, he did, just before it could connect with his smug face.
"Whoa, easy there, okay. That was a close one," he said, his voice a low, teasing rumble. "Nice aims, though."
"I'll give you more than aim, you lurking creep!" she snapped.
"Okay, okay, sorry. I was already here waiting for you," he said, leaning forward slightly, the mattress dipping under his weight, though the playful glint in his eyes said he wasn't the least bit sorry. "Then you walked out and all steamy and oblivious… And well. Let's just say I got a little… distracted."
"Distracted? I'll distract you with my foot in your—" she started, but her threat was cut short as the towel chose that exact moment to slip, revealing a generous curve. She fumbled, yanking it back up with a gasp, and looked up to see Kaelith's dark eyes glued to the spot, his smirk deepening.
"Come on, you're the one who didn't care to notice me as you walked in and decided to start stripping like it was my own private show. Can't blame a man for watching a performance meant for him, now can you?" Kaelith chuckled, standing slowly from the bed, his smirk still in place. If only it grew wider and darker. He was enjoying this way too much. He set the vase down carefully.
"Stripping? It wasn't a performance, you delusional asshole! I didn't know you were here. I just got out of the shower, you dickhead!" she shot back, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and embarrassment. She adjusted her grip on the towel. It wasn't doing much, and his eyes kept drifting downward, making her want to vanish on the spot.
"Sure you didn't," he replied, a playful glint in his darkened gaze. "Or maybe some part of you just wanted me to see." Seeing her clear unease, he teased, his smirk turning downright sinful. He took a slow, deliberate step forward. "Maybe you like the idea of me seeing what's mine."
"In your dreams, you arrogant—!" she started, but her voice faltered. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. No one had ever seen her like this. Ever. And the raw, sheer hunger in his stare was terrifying but… electrifying.
"Oh, believe me," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky, intimate caress that she felt deep in her belly. "You are. Every single night."
Her mouth fell to the ground and eyes widened like a fish.
"Well, regardless," he added, his dark and intensely focused gaze deliberately traveled down her throat, over the desperate clutch of the towel at her chest, lingering down the length of her bare legs. "Though I can't say I minded the view. It was a… breathtaking sight. Short-lived but worth it."
Isaldora's mouth went dry as a lump formed in her throat. A fresh, hot flush of anger and something far more confusing shot through her.
"Hey!" she snapped, her voice sharp to mask her vulnerability. "My eyes are up here, jerk. Don't you dare let your eyes wander off on their little pervy field trip."
Kaelith's eyes snapped back to hers instantly. And a slow, devastatingly confident smile spread across his face. "Why not?" he asked, his voice husky and teasing.
He took a slow, predatory step towards her, his eyes never leaving hers. "What are you hiding for, love? It's a shame to cover up such perfection."
He took another step, and Isaldora's breath hitched. She clutched the towel tighter for dear life, taking an involuntary step backwards.
"It's all mine to look at anyway, Isla," he said, his tone shifting into something deep, primal, and utterly possessive. "Every single, beautiful fucking inch of you. It's. All. MINE."
The way he said that with such arrogance and boldness, it should have made her furious—and it did—but it also sent a shiver running straight down her spine. Her witty retorts died a quick death in her throat. Her usual fiestiness was dimming by every passing second.
His gaze wasn't just hungry; it was filled with open desire, admiration, and something like pure awe. She was ravishing—damp hair clinging to her neck and shoulders, skin flushed a pretty pink, standing there in nothing but her own glory and a hopelessly inadequate towel. He could smell the clean, subtle scent of her body wash—something like jasmine and fresh rain—and it suited her perfectly. The raw beauty of the moment left him utterly captivated.
"Don't," she snapped, clutching it desperately. "Don't you dare come closer."
He took another step forward, closing the distance. She took another backward, then another, until her bare shoulders pressed against the cool wall with a soft thud. Damn it. She was trapped. The towel threatened to slip again, and she fumbled, her panic making her clumsy. She was painfully aware of how exposed she still was.
"Nervous?" Kaelith murmured as he leaned in slightly, bracing a hand on the wall beside her head, caging her in completely.
She could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell his masculine cologne—something like dark and spicy and could also see the dark flecks in his hungry eyes. It was distracting. "I'm not nervous," she lied, her voice coming out tighter than she intended. "Just get out," her voice lacked its earlier fire.
"Make me."
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As a new writer, feedback is gold! If you have a moment, even a single emoji (❤️, 🤔, 😊) in the comments helps me so much. Also, do add the book to your collection, dear reader. I am way far behind and need your support.