Olivia was already in bed, the sheets tucked gently around her, when Dylan stepped out from the bathroom. Beads of water still clung to his chest, and he lazily rubbed at his wet hair with a towel.
"You could just ask instead of eye-fucking me, Miss Olivia," he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Don't give me ideas."
"Ask for what?" She teased.
He chuckled, glancing away briefly before his gaze returned. "I like it when you act all innocent. It's cute. But truly, sometimes, it doesn't suit you."
He returned from the closet in nothing but shorts, his upper body still bare, taut, defined, and effortlessly charming.
"When did you know you'd be flying out?" Olivia asked suddenly, unplanned.
"I don't reminisce, telling you I'd be flying out," Dylan said flatly, climbing onto the bed beside her, his body causing the mattress to dip.
