Rita's Point Of View
Charles smirked, that slow, infuriatingly arrogant curve of his lips cutting through the heavy, heat-drenched air of the bedroom. His dark eyes didn't just look at me; they raked down my entire naked body, lingering on the flush spreading across my throat before traveling all the way to my bare toes gripping the hardwood floor.
He didn't move an inch, just stood there looking thoroughly pleased with himself, as if he'd won some unspoken contest between us. The silence stretched between us, thick with anticipation and challenge. I could feel the weight of it pressing against my skin, making every breath feel significant.
"And what exactly do you mean by that, Rita?" he asked, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly vibration that made my skin prickle with awareness. Each word seemed deliberately chosen, calculated to unsettle me. The sound wrapped around me like velvet, both comforting and dangerous. "How exactly do you intend to make me feel good, princess?"
