A slow smile played on Zethan's lips as he watched her, frozen in surprise. His deep, piercing gaze locked onto hers, studying every reaction—the way her breath hitched, the way her fingers twitched ever so slightly as if unsure whether to move. He took a step forward, his movements deliberate, calculated. Predatory.
He wore nothing but a pair of matching PJ pants, the loose fabric hanging low on his hips. His shirt, carelessly discarded, lay forgotten on the floor—a silent casualty of his growing impatience.
As he closed the distance between them, his fingers lifted, reaching for her. A delicate touch—gentle yet firm—curled around her slender throat, tilting her chin up. The warmth of his palm against her skin sent a jolt through her spine, forcing her to meet his unreadable gaze.
Lilia's lips parted, but no sound came. Words tangled on the tip of her tongue, lost somewhere between uncertainty and the undeniable force of his presence.
Zethan didn't wait.
