125. Kissed Her Naked Skin

Continued...

Rose lifted her hands to the hem of her small top, fingers grazing the bare skin of her stomach before gripping the fabric and pulling it up in one fluid motion. The cool air kissed her naked skin, pebbled her skin, and yet, she didn't hesitate.

The shirt slid over her head and was tossed carelessly to the side, leaving her clad only in a glittering red bra that shimmered under the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the glass.

Yup, another questionable wardrobe choice from this morning when she had been feeling cute, blissfully unaware that she'd be using it as some makeshift weapon of distraction.

But right now, none of that mattered.

Right now, she was on a mission.

A mission to erase any and all traces of Aria from his depraved, stalkery, hedonistically perverted mind and make sure there was only room for her.

A mission to drown him in thoughts of her and her alone.

Once she has completely gotten his undivided attention, she could panic then about her impulsive actions.

Speaking of impulsive actions, her bare stomach tensed as she reached down, fingers hooking into the waistband of her shorts, her breath steadying as she saw his stance shift—subtly, but unmistakably.

His shoulders went taught.

His posture stiffened, but not in shock, not in horror. No, it was something else.

Something far more sinister. His interest.

And that was exactly what she wanted

"Yes… yes, feast your depraved little eyes on this, you prick. Because that's all you'll ever get—look, but never touch."

Rose's voice was a sultry whisper, dripping with sadistic amusement as she smirked, letting the final proverbial bomb drop in the form of her shorts.

The fabric pooled at her ankles, leaving nothing but the delicate, glimmering red thong clinging to her hips, a sinful contrast against her bare skin.

The moonlight cast a faint glow over her body, accentuating every curve, every dip, every shadowed valley of her form.

With a lazy flick of her foot, she kicked the discarded clothing aside, shifting her weight slightly as she settled into her stance—confident, brazen, untouchable.

And then she watched.

She watched the way his chest rose and fell just a fraction faster than before, the telltale signs of control slipping through his fingers. His broad frame, usually so rigid and unreadable, betrayed something raw, something visceral.

Oh, he was affected.

Exactly what she wanted.

Or at least, what high, irrational Rose wanted.

For a moment, she simply stood there, basking in the power of it, in the way she had flipped the script on him for once.

Then, an idea struck her, wicked and playful.

"You know what?" she mused, tilting her head as if contemplating. "Since you've made my life a living hell for the past few nights, I think it's only fair that I return the favor."

A slow, deliberate smirk curved her lips.

"I might as well give you blue balls tonight."

And with that, she turned on her heels, remaining in her axis, making sure to give him a perfect view.

Rose let her hands glide through her hair, shaking it loose as she arched her back ever so slightly, accentuating every movement as she shifted her hips, slow and deliberate.

She played with the strands, twirling them around her fingers as she swayed, her body rolling in a way that was meant to torment.

A part of her—somewhere deep, buried beneath the reckless haze of the drugs—was screaming at her, telling her that this was a dangerous game. That this was the worst idea she'd ever had.

But the other part?

The other part was reveling in it.

So, with a mischievous chuckle, she gave one last slow, taunting gyration before turning back around, expecting to see him still standing there at a distance, stewing in whatever hell she had just put him through.

Instead—

Her breath hitched, her stomach plummeting.

The space where he had stood was empty.

Her lips parted, a stunned exhale slipping free as her gaze frantically searched the darkness.

And then—she saw him.