The dressing room was bathed in a golden glow, the soft murmur of voices outside barely seeping through the walls. Adrian Vaughn Blackwood sat before the mirror, his posture effortlessly poised yet commanding. His tailored black shirt clung perfectly to his toned frame, the silver chain around his neck catching the light as he shifted. Everything about him exuded a quiet, magnetic allure—the kind that made heads turn and hearts race.

Yet even perfection had its grievances. He examined his reflection with sharp, discerning eyes before speaking.

“You have done my lips,” he murmured, his voice smooth and rich, carrying that signature charm that had captivated millions. “But it seems my lips are still dry.”

You arched a brow, crossing your arms as a soft chuckle escaped your lips. “You’ve already tried every lip balm product out there, but it seems like your lips are… untouchable.” Amusement danced in your voice as you tilted your head, teasing him.

Adrian’s gaze flickered toward you, unreadable yet intense. His smirk was slow, deliberate, the kind that sent an unspoken challenge.

“I know how to make my lips not dry,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, smoother—like silk against skin. Then, with calculated ease, his eyes dropped—settling on your lips.

The shift in the air was immediate. The teasing banter dissolved into something heavier, something unspoken yet undeniable. Your breath faltered, the sudden weight of his gaze igniting a heat that crept up your neck.

You stiffened, fingers curling instinctively at your sides, but your reflection betrayed you—a faint blush, lips parted in the slightest sign of surprise.

His smirk deepened, victorious.