Love beyond the mask (Whitney)

Chapter 7

In an instant, Whitney’s gaze trailed down the chiseled collarbone of the man before her, her eyes

widening with a mix of shock and a hint of desire she could not quite conceal.

He seemed to relax, noticing her stare.

Damn it.

Not only did this guy have a face to die for, but his physique was the epitome of rugged charm. Broad

shoulders tapered down to a lean waist, each muscle in his abdomen as defined as if it were etched in

stone. And those legs–long, firm, and peeking out from the bottom of his towel–were downright sinful.

Wait a minute, was this guy her arch–nemesis? Looking like this?

Whitney could not believe it. A tear of appreciation escaped her lips before she could stop it.

“Got an eyeful yet?” A cool, teasing voice floated down from above her. Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

“Or are you so satisfied with the view that you can’t tear yourself away?” The man’s playful yet piercing

gaze drifted to the towel around his waist.

Whitney’s cheeks flamed red. It was not like she meant to gawk at that particular area.

“Sorry!” She stammered, trying to turn away.

“Miss,” he drawled, amusement lacing his voice. “you’re about to pull off my towel.”

Whitney blinked in confusion, then looked down. Damn it, why was she holding onto one end of his

towel?!

She tried to hand it back to him, but as she turned, her foot caught on the rug, and she stumbled,

causing the towel to unravel from around the man’s waist.

“Ah! Sorry!” She exclaimed, eyes shut tight.

“Careful!” He frowned, reaching out to catch her as she fell.

“Thud.”

Whitney slowly opened her eyes to find herself sprawled on top of him.

And to her utter mortification, her hand was still clutching the towel, now draped across her back and

covering them both.

Which meant he was completely…

Whitney suddenly realized just how compromising their position was.

“Don’t move!” he warned her in a husky voice.

Whitney froze, her face burning even hotter.

“I won’t look. I’ll just slowly hand you the towel!” She said, her eyes closed tight, hand shaking as she

tried to grab the fabric.

But the man did not respond, his breathing growing heavier.

Peeking through her lashes, Whitney caught him looking down her neckline, his eyes smoldering.

She looked down and let out a sharp scream, immediately scolding him, “You pervert, what are you

looking at?” His gaze then shifted down her legs, and Whitney followed his eyes to see her pleated skirt

was way too short! She blushed furiously and warned him, “Close your eyes!”

“You dressed like this for me to look, didn’t you?” He teased, his voice rough and provocative.