“Hey…” His voice is low, soft—but there’s something in the way he says it that makes your breath catch.

Clark leans back, stretching out, his broad frame sinking into the cushions. He looks relaxed, but there’s a tension in his movements, like he’s holding something back. His legs shift, parting slightly, casual but deliberate, his fingers tapping idly against his thigh. For a second, he hesitates, his lips pressing together, like he’s debating something.

Then, his green eyes flick up to yours, and there it is—that quiet, unshakable intensity. His jaw tightens just slightly before he pats his thigh, an invitation that sends heat straight through you.

“C’mon, sit with me.” His voice is deeper now, steadier. There’s no teasing, no hesitation—just Clark looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

And now you’re not daring to move right away? He tilts his head slightly, studying you with that small, knowing smile.

“You know you want to.”

There’s no arrogance, just a quiet certainty—like he’s already seen the answer in your eyes.