The blanket draped loosely over his lower half, barely covering him. The way it settled, the way it hinted at what lay beneath, sent a shiver down her spine.
Her throat felt dry.
"What are you doing naked on my bed, mister?" Nicole asked, feigning shock, though the heat rising in her cheeks betrayed her. She was trying to act composed, but her pulse was racing, her body already betraying her.
Ross smirked, resting his head against the pillow like he belonged there. His eyes, dark and knowing, glead with amusent.
"Oh? Did I assu wrong?" he asked casually. "My mistake. Let get dressed real quick."
But he didn't move.
He simply watched her, his gaze steady, predatory, waiting.
Nicole exhaled slowly. She could feel the tension stretching between them like a taut string, one that only needed the slightest pull to snap.
Her grip on the coffee cups tightened before she shook her head, a small, almost amused smile curving her lips.
Without another word, she walked to the bed, her movents slow, deliberate. She placed both cups onto the nightstand, the clink of ceramic against wood the only sound in the room.
Then, she climbed onto the bed beside him.
For a mont, neither of them spoke.
Nicole felt her heartbeat pounding in her ears, her skin tingling with anticipation. She had never done anything like this before—never invited a man into her bed with full awareness of what would follow.
But there was no hesitation now. No second-guessing.
She had made her choice the mont she left that door open.
"You were right," she finally whispered, her voice barely audible in the heavy silence.
Then, she kissed him.
It wasn't a hesitant kiss. It wasn't careful or unsure.
It was hungry. Desperate. The kind of kiss that consud, that demanded, that stripped away everything else until there was nothing but the heat of the mont.
Her fingers slid against his bare skin, tracing the sharp lines of his body, morizing the shape of him.
Ross didn't hesitate. He pulled her close, deepening the kiss, his hands firm but unhurried as they road, as if savoring every inch of her.
Tonight, she wasn't Nicole, the dutiful fiancée. She wasn't the woman bound by expectations, by obligations, by a future that had already been decided for her.
Tonight, she was simply a woman who wanted.
And for once in her life, she chose to take.
"Mmm…" Nicole lted into the kiss, savoring the way Ross's lips moved against hers. His touch was confident yet teasing, coaxing her deeper, drawing out a response that left her breathless.
There was no hesitation, no awkward fumbling—just pure, electrifying passion.
She had kissed Ross before. Countless tis, in fact. But always under the bright glare of film set lights, always with a director's voice cutting through the mont, demanding a retake or an adjustnt.
Their on-screen chemistry had been rehearsed, perfected, made for the world to see.
But this—this was different.
This wasn't for the caras.
There were no scripts, no staged movents, no lines to deliver. There was no one watching, no one telling them how they should touch or when they should stop.
For the first ti, Nicole was kissing Ross because she wanted to—because her body ached for it, because she needed to know what it felt like when there were no boundaries between them.
And just like always, kissing Ross felt nothing like kissing Ian.
With Ian, everything had been soft, sweet, familiar. A tender kind of affection that had always felt safe, never wild. Never unpredictable.
But Ross?
Ross made her feel like she was on fire.
His lips moved against hers with a heat that sent shivers down her spine, his hands firm yet patient as they rested on her waist, grounding her yet making her body crave more.
Every nerve in her body was awake, hyperaware, tingling under his touch. It stunned her how sothing as simple as a kiss could unravel her like this, how it could make her feel things she never even knew were possible.
She moaned softly into his mouth, her hands moving of their own accord, tracing the sharp lines of his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath her fingertips.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she pressed closer, wanting—needing—to feel him against her.
She had never felt like this before.
A rush of excitent, of forbidden pleasure, coursed through her veins. She was past the point of hesitation, past the guilt, past the voice in the back of her head telling her to stop.
Tonight, there were no rules.
Tonight, there was no fiancé, no wedding plans, no expectations chaining her down.
Tonight, there was only Ross.
Nicole's breaths ca faster, more shallow, as she kissed him harder, more desperate. Her body was fully alive, burning with need, with want.
A thrill shot through her as she realized—this ti, no one would be yelling "cut."
This ti, there was no need to stop.
And she had never wanted anything more.
The kiss stretched on, slow and intoxicating, as if neither of them wanted to break the spell they had fallen under.
Nicole felt herself sinking deeper, drowning in the heat of Ross's lips, in the way his mouth moved with such practiced skill.
He kissed her like he had all the ti in the world, teasing, exploring, letting her set the pace.
And for now, Ross behaved himself.
His hands remained in place, resting lightly against her waist, making no move to claim more.
He could tell she was nervous, could feel the slight tremor in her breath, the way her body hesitated before surrendering fully.
He wanted her to co to him willingly, to reach for him without second-guessing herself.
So he waited.
When their lips finally parted, Nicole's breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to steady herself.
Her lips were swollen, her face flushed, and Ross found himself smirking at the sight of her—so thoroughly kissed, so utterly lost in the mont.
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