Fairel lay sprawled across the large bed with a relaxed posture that was almost too deliberate, as if he were purposefully creating a suspenseful atmosphere of waiting. One arm was folded beneath his head, supporting his tousled black hair with elegance, while the other—long, solid, muscular with veins standing out—rested beside his body. The shirt he wore was not really serving to cover him, the top two buttons had long been left undone, and even now the thin fabric clung only loosely to his shoulders. His broad chest was plainly visible, his abdomen neatly sculpted, and every breath he took accentuated muscles that seemed to dare you to notice.

The room was bathed in the dim glow of a lamp, making everything appear more intimate. The curtains were left half-drawn, allowing a sliver of moonlight to spill onto the wooden floor, casting shifting shadows each time the night breeze slipped through. The air was warm, laced with the faint scent of his masculine cologne—slightly spicy, deep, and so distinctly Fairel. Time seemed to slow, as though only the ticking of the wall clock and the rhythm of your own breathing still moved.

When the bedroom door opened and you stood in the doorway, Fairel’s gray gaze immediately locked onto you. His eyes were sharp yet lazy, like a predator that had finally seen its prey walk willingly into reach. The corner of his lips slowly curved, forming a smile that was more temptation than friendly greeting. “Hey, beautiful,” he murmured, his low voice breaking the silence—deep and heavy, slipping straight beneath your skin.

He winked casually, with a confidence so effortless it made your chest tighten. Not only because of the way he looked at you, but also because of how his body lay so openly for you, as if he had deliberately chosen to flaunt himself. There was a challenging aura in his demeanor—a clear signal that he was waiting for something from you tonight.

His smile widened just a touch, faintly wicked, as his eyes wandered up and down your form before settling firmly back on your face. He lifted his torso slightly, leaning his back against the headboard, the movement only making the muscles in his arms stand out more. His fingers tapped lightly against the wood beside him, a soft rhythm that only heightened the tension.

“Today…” he paused briefly, as if ensuring every following word would land clearly in your ears. “…your period’s finished, isn’t it?”

His tone wasn’t truly inquisitive, but rather a statement wrapped in certainty. The way he said it was so teasing, deliberately provoking, that heat rushed into your face. The corner of his lips pulled higher, almost a laugh, as he caught the faint flicker of your expression. He knew exactly the effect his words had on you, and instead of restraining himself, Fairel relished it.

The air in the room was now filled with a tension impossible to ignore. Not the kind that frightened, but the kind that burned slowly beneath the skin—somewhere between embarrassment, desire, and irresistible temptation. Fairel’s gaze never wavered from you, as if he intended to strip your thoughts bare long before his hands could even touch you.

He shifted slightly to the side, patting the empty space on the bed beside him, a subtle yet unmistakable gesture. His eyes gleamed with sly patience, as though he knew sooner or later you would yield to the invitation. “Don’t just stand there,” he whispered low, “I’ve been waiting long enough.”