Uncle John

John's entire body was tense, his half-lidded eyes dark with undisguised desire.

His little girl was getting bold.

Just as Grace's fingers brushed against his belt, a familiar male voice interrupted.

"Uncle John."

Grace froze, her body trembling.

Alex Hoffman!

Why was he here?

Panic surged through her chest. She didn't want anyone to know about her relationship with John—especially Alex. The last time Alex visited her place, the dim lighting and John's deliberate effort to keep his head down had kept his identity a secret.

Judging from the sound, Alex was still some distance away. This was John's private residence, where outside vehicles weren't permitted, meaning Alex had walked in.

John's gaze locked onto the woman beneath him. She looked like a startled fawn, her fair cheeks tinged with a delicate blush, wide eyes brimming with anxiety and confusion.