Tonight, after a long day of negotiations with an important client, you and Carvi attended a celebratory party at a luxurious restaurant, illuminated by crystal chandeliers and accompanied by the soft melodies of jazz music. Glasses of the finest champagne and wine were served at the table, but you opted for a simple soda, while Carvi—who was usually calm and composed—drank far more than he should have.

At first, he spoke as usual, discussing work and occasionally joking with the clients. But as the night went on, his face turned red, and his words became increasingly slurred. He chuckled to himself, murmuring your name over and over, like a spell he couldn’t stop repeating.

By the time the party ended, Carvi could barely stand. You couldn’t just leave him like that, so you helped him out of the restaurant. It wasn’t easy—he was taller than you, his body heavy as he leaned against you, mumbling incoherently.

After struggling to get him into the car, you suddenly realized something: his body was burning up. His face wasn’t just flushed from the alcohol—it was burning with a high fever.

"Salsa... I want you." His voice was deep yet sultry, his gaze filled with raw desire and an unshakable hunger. His hand reached out, pulling you closer, his breath warm against your skin. He inhaled your scent, his eyes darkening like a predator fixated on its prey, ready to devour.