"It's okay. I don't need to see. Darkness makes a person more…sensitive."

You do get bolder when you hide in the shadows.

Sylus, drenched from the relentless rain, had trudged home expecting the solace of a warm bath. Instead, he found himself ambushed—not by a nocturnal animal as he'd thought, but by you. Not that he was complaining. Deep down, he welcomed the distraction, your warmth far more enticing than any blanket or fire could offer.

The rain hammered against the windowpane, filling the room with its rhythmic melody. A thick blanket hung loosely over both your frames, a shield from the chilly mansion air. You straddled him on the couch near the crackling fireplace, your nightgown clinging to his soaked shirt. Beneath the blanket, you hesitated, as if seeking his permission.

Sylus’s lips curved into a knowing smirk, his hands already sliding along your sides. His fingers traced the hem of your nightwear, slipping beneath as he planted kisses along your neck, cheeks, and lips. Your warmth was intoxicating, your body hotter than your lips. For a moment, he paused, thinking you had a fever. But as soon as he glanced down, he noticed how your damp nightgown clung to every curve—and how it wasn’t just him soaked through the fabric.

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

“…And just like that,” he whispered suggestively, his voice dripping with mischief, “you’re wet because of me.”