Chapter 2: Action Begins.
The sheet barely covers her figure, slipping down her hip like a sigh. Rebecca lies on her side, one leg slightly bent and her torso gently turned toward him, allowing Richard to admire every curve with a mixture of awe and restrained desire. Her skin, bathed in moonlight, looks like warm ivory, with soft shadows outlining the firm, natural shape of her body.
The crimson bra, half undone, has slid to the side, revealing the pink edge of an erect nipple barely peeking out, like an unspoken promise. Her flat stomach rises gently with each slow breath, as a strand of her brown hair clings to the curve of her collarbone, as if refusing to part from her.
Richard swallows hard, his pulse quickening beyond his control. It's not just the naked beauty before him—it's the way Rebecca is looking at him now. Eyes half-lidded, intoxicated by the heat of the room and the moment, she gazes at him without fear or shame. There's fire in her look, but also vulnerability. As if saying 'come' was more than a physical invitation—it was mutual surrender.
"Are you sure?" she asks, her voice low, rasped with pent-up desire.
He doesn't answer with words. He slides toward her, and with reverent slowness, brushes her abdomen with his knuckles. Her skin shivers at the touch, and a trembling exhale escapes her lips. He traces the line of her waist, the soft fold beneath her breast, the delicate curve of her neck, and pauses at her cheek.
"Yes," he replies, barely a whisper, more breath than voice. "For you… always."
Rebecca takes him by the nape, guiding him gently yet firmly to her lips. The kiss is neither rushed nor desperate: it's deep, slow, as though every stroke of tongue and breath carries what they hadn't said before. Their bodies find each other unhurriedly, as if knowing the night is long and the world outside can wait.
He leans in, and the sheet yields to his movement, revealing her hip, the inner fold where heat already pulses impatiently. Her thigh coils around his waist, inviting him, setting the rhythm with the warm brush of her skin.
There are no words, only ragged breaths, gasps mingling with the creak of the mattress, and the wet, rhythmic sound of shared desire. Rebecca arches her back as Richard's lips descend over her chest, her fingers clutching the sheets with a low, muffled moan.
That night, there is no war, no missions. Only two people marked by the passion of the moment.
And when they finally lie entangled, still glistening with sweat and breathless, the silence that wraps them isn't empty—it's full.
Rebecca lets out a soft laugh, exhausted and still trembling.
"Didn't think I'd end up sleeping with the first guy who walked into a bar."
Richard smiles, tracing her collarbone with his thumb.
"And I didn't think I'd ever interact with another person again. But here I am… with you."
She leans closer, resting her head on his chest, and before closing her eyes, she whispers:
"Don't go when the sun comes up."
He kisses her forehead, closing his eyes too.
"Never."
*Unknown hotel*
Dawn seeps through the window with a dim, cold, bluish light—so different from the warmth of the previous night. The room is wrapped in thick silence, interrupted only by the slow spin of the ceiling fan and the steady breathing of two still-intertwined bodies.
Richard wakes before she does.
For a few seconds, he doesn't know where he is… but the warmth beside him is more real than any dream. He turns slightly and sees her: Rebecca, still asleep, lips parted, one leg tossed casually over his hip. The sheet barely covers her, revealing the perfect shape of her bare back, the dimples at the base of her spine, and the delicate line where the curve of her rear melts into the shadows of the mattress.
He swallows hard. The sight is hypnotic. He can't—doesn't want to—look away.
Her hair is messy, wild, just as his hand left it hours earlier. Her skin, marked with kisses and touches, carries the testimony of what they lived. Richard leans in, brushes her exposed shoulder with his lips, and closes his eyes as he inhales her scent: a trace of sweat, sweetness, and that vanilla-and-adrenaline perfume that seems uniquely hers.
Rebecca stirs softly and, half-asleep, turns over. The sheet slips, and for a moment, Richard gazes at her exposed breasts, soft and natural, nipples hardened by the morning chill. The curve of her stomach rises and falls slowly, like a constant invitation to sin.
"Mmm…?" she mumbles, eyes still closed. "Are you watching me sleep like some pervert?"
Richard lets out a low laugh.
"More like a grateful man."
She smiles lazily, still not opening her eyes, and stretches her arms above her head, letting her body be completely exposed under the morning light. A goddess, unashamed, fearless, as if saying without words: 'Look at me all you want… I'm real.'
"Sleep well?" she whispers, her voice husky.
"No." He kisses her collarbone. "I slept perfectly."
They stay quiet for several minutes. Only the lazy brush of fingers, the murmur of scattered kisses. Until Rebecca's phone vibrates on the nightstand.
They both ignore it at first.
But it vibrates again. And again. Until finally, she sighs, groans, and reaches for it. Her body arches as she sits up, and Richard takes in the view. The line of her lower back, the natural fall of her breasts, her flat stomach with the sheet barely covering her pelvis.
She checks the screen with a frown.
"It's from the team… damn it."
Richard props himself up, still naked, resting his elbow on the pillow as he watches her. His body, though marked by scars, looks stronger, more whole than ever. She looks up and catches his open admiration.
"What are you staring at?"
"Every inch that brought me back to life."
Rebecca smiles, but her eyes cloud with worry.
With a resigned sigh, she sits. Richard watches in silence. The sheet slides to her waist, leaving her back completely exposed. The curve of her shoulder blades, the line of her spine, the subtle tension as she leans to grab her phone… every motion leaves him spellbound.
Rebecca frowns as she reads the message.
"It's from headquarters…" she murmurs.
Richard remains propped up on one elbow, still naked, never taking his eyes off her.
"What is it?"
She doesn't answer right away. She stares at the phone, then the window. As if deciding between two worlds.
"There were incidents in the Arklay Mountains. Three groups of hikers went missing. One of the search teams came back… said they found remains. Human. Mutilated. Like they were eaten."
"Eaten?"
"Yeah. They say some of the bodies had human bite marks. Or something very close. They don't know if it's a cult, a viral outbreak… or a rogue experiment. The brass think it might be connected to hidden Umbrella facilities in the area."
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