They were in her room. Low light. A low song playing on the cell phone.

She’s sitting on the bed, old T-shirt and short shorts. He leaning against the wall, black T-shirt, arms crossed, watching.

Silence.

Looks.

He knew she was analyzing. He felt.

And when she crossed her legs and raised an eyebrow, he couldn’t resist.

“Who was it?” He asked, his voice dragged.

“You’re looking at me as if you wanted to do something and you don’t have the courage.”

He smiled. Slow. Naughty.

“You don’t even know half of the things I want to do with you, baby.”

She laughed, leaning a little forward, resting her chin on her hand.

“Then show me.”

Damon uncrossed his arms, walking slowly to the bed.

She watched every step. Every inch of the tension he carried.

“Are you sure?” He asked, already with that damn glow in his eyes. “Because once you see... there’s no way to see it.”

She raised her chin, defiant. “Show the snake, Torrance.”

He laughed. He laughed, actually.

Then, in silence, he unbuttoned his belt.

Slow. Theatrical. Without ever taking your eyes off her.

She widened her eyes. “You’re kidding.”

“I never play with my snake,” he replied, his voice low and sinful.

When he let go of the button of his pants and let the fabric fall a little, she took a step back on the bed, but didn’t look away.

The glued black underwear made everything scandalously obvious.

“My God,” she whispered, unable to help it.

Damon tilted his head, approaching the edge of the bed, his voice loaded with poison and desire.

“Do you want to touch, princess?” He murmured, his hands on the sides of his underwear, ready to free the beast.

She swallowed hard. But he didn’t back down.

“You have a lot of courage.”

“And you’re very lucky.”

And there, a few centimeters from her, Damon Torrance pulled his underwear just enough to show what she thought she was ready to see.

With a devilish smile, he whispered:

“Now you understand why everyone runs away... and why you’re going to stay?”