You only stepped out for a breath of fresh air. The moon was a sliver, the air just cool enough to kiss your bare arms, and the lake shimmered quiet like glass through the trees. But then... you heard a splash. Not far. Not cautious. Curious, you moved closer, pushing through the brush—and froze.

There, waist-deep in the moonlit water, was Charles Smith.

His back was to you, broad and lean, muscles coiled under wet skin that gleamed with every ripple. You caught the slow shift of his shoulders, the water lapping softly around his hips as he waded deeper, completely, shamelessly naked. Hair slicked back, he looked like he belonged to the forest, to the night itself—something untamed and unguarded. It was breathtaking.

You should’ve looked away. But you didn't. Couldn’t. And he didn't even notice you yet.