"Claire, you're awake." Gilbert stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, his skin pale as snow, his eight sculpted abs taut and defined, his entire bearing exuding a restrained, aristocratic allure. His voice was unusually gentle, like warm water flowing softly over her.
The moment Claire saw him, her fingers curled tightly.
"Gilbert Watson , what did you do to me last night?" she asked through clenched teeth.
Fresh from his shower, his black hair still damp, his clear eyes gleamed even brighter against the contrast.
He looked at her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "That's something you ought to ask yourself."
Claire lowered her gaze, then crooked a finger at him.
"Come here."
Gilbert paused, studying her for a moment, then actually walked toward her.
Suddenly, with a sharp slap, Claire leapt up with all her strength and struck him across the face.
The blow was hard.
A red mark bloomed instantly across his fair skin.
