Why had Marcus rushed through his shower with such haste? A mere moment ago, he had been enclosed within the bathroom’s embrace, and now he emerged, leaving behind its sanctuary. The sudden appearance caught her off guard.

Gazing upon the chiseled contours of Marcus’ visage against the canvas of his robust chest, Millie found herself enveloped in a shroud of shyness. With unblemished sincerity, she voiced her thoughts.

“Nay, only a solitary question did I chance upon.”

Her hand ascended to Lend support against the imposing bastion of Marcus’ chest, encountering the terrain of his robust and dewy sinews.

Her gaze lifted, encountering his intent stare. Millie’s reticence deepened, mingling with a tincture of culpability.

“I but perused the initial query. You should replace it. By my honor falsehoods shall not cross my lips.”

swift as a zephyr, quelled

“Fret not.”

he’d bestow upon her the entirety of

that Leon unmasked Millie’s alias as Aisha, a tempest of anxiety raged within Marcus. How ineffable was the sensation of her

of a

Marcus’ extended limbs, his embrace enveloping her svelte waist,

perplex you? Permit me

luminous screen, his timbre imbued with an indulgence that echoed the dulcet symphony of a

as tender as the whisper of zephyrs, brushed against the contours of her ear, bearing with them a bouquet of his delightful

intentions remained veiled-was he a scribe

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