Or maybe she'd guessed but still dared to meet my gaze.
Interesting. This little bird disguised as a wildcat was bolder than I'd thought.
I stubbed out the cigar and started typing.
"Up late?"
Send.
The feeling was foreign—anticipation. Like being fifteen again, waiting for prey to take the bait. Heart racing, breath catching.
She replied quickly with cute defiance and shyness. We chatted back and forth like two normal young people talking through the night. She was fascinating, so much so that I got completely lost in our private world, forgetting business, vendettas, schemes.
Until she sent that message: "You send one first, maybe I'll think about it.."
I stared at those words for several seconds.
She was challenging me. How interesting.
I looked down at myself—fresh from the shower, robe hanging loose, chest exposed.
An idea struck.
I opened the camera and casually untied the robe, letting it fall open to reveal my chest and abs. Leaning against the headboard with black silk sheets as backdrop, water droplets still beading on my skin, I angled the shot to show hints of the tattoos on my chest and ribs—ink I'd gotten years ago to honor my parents.
Hair still damp and tousled across my forehead, I stared directly into the lens with naked, predatory desire.
Click.
I glanced at the photo. Perfect—seductive without being crude.
A fair response to her boldness.
The moment I hit send, I felt a long-forgotten thrill—not the satisfaction of conquest, but pure curiosity about her reaction.
What would she do?
Minutes crawled by, each second building anticipation in my chest.
Ten minutes passed. Nothing. But surprisingly, the silence didn't douse the fire—it was like liquor, making my body burn hotter.
I imagined her now. Staring at her phone screen, face red as blood, fumbling for a response. Maybe she'd thrown the phone aside, then picked it up foranother look.
Or maybe... she was doing something more interesting. Like zooming in on the photo with her fingers, breathing getting rough...
The thought made my stomach tighten. Damn, when had some kid gotten under my skin like this? The loss of control was both alien and exhilarating.
With long-dormant mischief, I sent a question mark.
A few more minutes, then the phone finally buzzed.
"This... this is too much."
Seeing her text, I couldn't help smiling. Even her protests were adorable, like a child trying to hide her curiosity.
I replied: "Too much? I thought you'd like it. After all, you took a long time before responding."
"I did not!" Instant reply.
