The man had just finished showering, dressed in a sleek gray cotton robe, his hair damp, his gaze deep and ink-like. His entire being exuded an intense aura of masculinity; even under the guise of elegance and restraint, an undeniable sense of dominance lingered.
Delphine avoided meeting his eyes. Ignatius Leclair's phoenix-shaped eyes were the most profound and bottomless she had ever seen—if he wished, those eyes could drown a person in mere moments.
"I'm a light sleeper, and I don't sleep well," Delphine racked her brain to come up with excuses.
Leclair leaned against the doorframe and replied casually, "I'm a light sleeper too, but I sleep soundly. I won't touch you."
