A slow, knowing grin curves his mouth.
"Took you long enough..."
I almost tell him about running into Taylor, about her slipping out of Kentaro's room like a startled kitten... but I stop myself. Whatever that is — or isn't — it isn't my business to share. And I'm not about to start rumors over something I'm not even sure about.
So instead, I match his grin with one of my own.
"Maybe I was just enjoying the suspense."
His laugh — low, warm, soft — fills the room, and God, I love that sound. I feel it in places I shouldn't.
I step closer and hold up the can of whipped cream.
His brows rise.
"Oh?" he says, voice dipping.
"I was thinking of doing something tonight," I say — the words coming out smoother, silkier than I planned. My voice feels velvety even to me.
"Really?" he murmurs, eyes locked on me now.
I nod, letting a confident smirk play on my lips even though my heart is full-on auditioning for a horror movie with how loud it's pounding.
"I've been thinking about this for a very long time..."
His expression shifts — subtly, but unmistakably.
His eyes darken.
His mouth parts just slightly.
His entire attention snaps to me like a magnet locking onto steel.
Oh, he knows.
He definitely knows.
I take slow steps toward the end of the bed, letting my gaze stay on him — heated, bold, a challenge and an invitation all at once. Zach's chest rises a little quicker. His Adam's apple bobs. And the way he follows my every move with his eyes?
Yeah. That alone almost ruins me.
When I reach the foot of the bed, I lower myself onto my hands and knees, sinking into a crawling position.
Zach shifts instantly, like his entire body is preparing for whatever is about to happen. His hands slide from behind his head, palms flattening on the mattress, fingers curling slightly as if he's fighting the urge to reach for me.
His voice is husky when he speaks.
"Baby..."
But I don't answer.
I just start to crawl toward him — slow, deliberate, catlike — every inch closer making his breathing roughen.
His gaze drags over me like warm hands, lingering on my bare legs, the curve of my hips in my floral sleep shorts, the fall of my hair as it spills over one shoulder.
Heat coils in the air between us — thick, palpable, electric.
I keep moving toward him, knees sinking into the mattress, body dipping forward, every motion intentional.
