The sound came out of nowhere.
The bathroom doorknob turned, slow and sharp, slicing through the silence like a warning. Jenny froze. Her heart jumped. It didn't pound—it tightened, like something had just wrapped around it and pulled. Hard.
The creak that followed echoed like it had no business being that loud. Every inch the door moved, it screamed. It sounded like time itself was dragging its feet.
Then the door opened. Not quickly. Not carelessly. Slowly. Carefully. Like a secret being revealed one breath at a time.
Steam rushed out.
It came in waves. Thick. Warm. It hit her all at once. The smell of body wash clung to it—clean and sharp, but sweet underneath. Like citrus mixed with something deeper. Something almost sinful. The scent wrapped around her, pulled her in. It was everywhere. In her hair. On her skin. In her mouth.
She didn't move. She couldn't.
Then she saw him.
James.
He stood in the doorway like something out of a dream. Or a warning. Maybe both.
He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The sight of him said enough.
The light behind him was soft, golden, muted by the steam. It wrapped around his frame, casting shadows, highlighting everything. His shoulders. His chest. The water still dripping down his skin.
He looked at her.
His eyes flickered. Just for a second. Just enough to give him away.
He hadn't expected her.
He wasn't ready.
Water clung to the ends of his hair. Then fell. One drop. Two. They landed on his chest and slid down. One drop traced his jaw. Another ran down his neck, stopping at the edge of his collarbone. Then it disappeared into the towel slung around his hips.
Jenny stared.
She didn't even try to pretend she wasn't looking. She was looking. She wanted him to know.
His body was bare. Toned. Real.
His muscles weren't exaggerated. He wasn't a man who lived in the gym. He looked like someone who used his body for more than just showing it off. Strength without showing off. Beauty without effort. It was maddening.
Water glided over his skin like it didn't want to leave. It clung. Then it surrendered, drop by drop.
The towel sat low. Very low.
Jenny's eyes caught on the V of his hips. The towel barely held on. It looked ready to fall. And for one long second, she wanted it to. She wanted to see all of him. She wanted to forget everything else.
But she didn't say that.
Not yet.
Instead, she took him in—every inch of him—with her eyes. Slowly. Boldly. No shame. No apology.
Her chest felt tight. Her breath shallow. The air felt thick, like it had turned into something else. Not air. Something warmer. Stickier. Like honey. Sweet and heavy and full of something unspoken.
Then he looked at her again.
Really looked.
And everything inside her stopped.
No noise came from the gala downstairs. No laughter. No music. No footsteps. Just silence. Thick and absolute. Like the world had hit pause.
Then James spoke.
His voice was rough. Warm. Still damp from the heat of the shower. It carried something else too. Something low. Something dark.
"What are you doing here?"
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't sound angry. But the question cut through the air.
Jenny's heart jumped. Then it kept going. Fast. Wild. Like it had its own agenda.
She didn't answer right away.
She smiled.
It was slow. Confident. Soft at first, then edged with something sharper. Something playful.
"No hello?" she said. Her voice was light. Teasing. But there was heat beneath it. "Surprised to see me?"
She stepped forward. Just a little. Not too much. Enough to make a point.
Her dress moved with her. Soft fabric brushed her thighs, flaring just enough to tease. She spun a little. Just once. Not fast. Just enough.
"I changed," she said. Her tone was casual. But her eyes weren't.
They stayed on him. They kept moving. Back to his chest. His shoulders. The towel.
"I thought we could go back to the gala together," she went on. "It's kind of boring without you."
She pouted then. Just a little. On purpose.
"I knocked," she added. "You didn't answer. So I figured maybe you were gone already."
She let her voice drop a little.
"But… turns out you were still here."
Jenny tilted her head. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. And something else.
"I got quite the sight of my trouble."
Her words hung in the air.
James didn't move. He didn't speak.
He just looked at her. Still. Calm. Quiet.
But something had changed. His eyes were darker now. Not angry. Not amused. Something else. Something deeper.
He looked at her like he saw straight through her. Like he could see every thought in her head.
Jenny felt that stare like a touch. Not rough. Not gentle. But constant. Heavy. It stayed on her skin.
Still, she didn't look away.
She lifted her chin. Just a little. Just enough to show she wasn't afraid.
She was in this.
Whatever this was.
And she wasn't backing down.
Silence stretched.
Their breathing was all that remained. Hers fast and shallow. His slower. Measured. But deeper. Thicker.
Then a single drop of water fell from his hair. It hit the floor.
Soft.
But to her, it sounded like thunder.
James reached up. Ran a hand through his hair. Pushed it back. The movement was smooth. Effortless. But she watched every part of it. The way his bicep flexed. The way his skin shifted. The way the light caught on the muscles in his shoulder.
She swallowed.
Still, she didn't look away.
Then he finally spoke.
"Is that so?" he said.
His tone was unreadable. Not cold. Not warm. Just… careful.
Then he moved.
One step.
That was all.
But the room changed.
Something tilted. Shifted. As if gravity had picked a side. His side.
Jenny felt her pulse throb in her neck. She didn't move. She didn't speak. She didn't dare breathe.
He was still a few feet away. But it felt like he was already in her space. Inside her mind.
She curled her fingers into her palm. Just enough to feel her nails press into her skin.
A quiet promise to herself.
Whatever happens next, I won't look away.
This wasn't just a moment anymore.
This was the start of something.
A game.
A spark.
A choice.
And they both knew it.
Neither of them was ready to walk away.
Not now.
Not yet.
Maybe never.
He stepped forward. Just one step.
But the space between them caught fire.
Jenny didn't move.
Didn't blink.
She stood there, pulse in her throat, eyes locked on his.
And when the silence deepened…She smiled.
Not sweet.Not shy.
A silent invitation.
Then she turned—slowly—and walked into his room.
Not a word spoken.
But a choice had been made.