Chapter 9 I Want Extra Service
947 Words
Bastian pulled his hand back, and it felt like the air had suddenly chilled.
Elena slowly opened her eyes, her gaze hazy yet defiant. Her breathing was still a bit ragged, while her chest was rising and falling with unfulfilled desire.
He turned away with calm, but it felt like a silent declaration—he wasn't going to continue.
Elena spoke up, her voice low and sultry, tinged with a hint of drunkenness and provocation, "Hey, I want... extra service!"
The words floated through the air like a feather, yet they stirred an invisible tension between them.
Bastian paused his steps, and his fingers unconsciously tightened. A wave of surprise and frustration washed over him.
He surely remembered those words he said on the yacht, which were just a joke to see how she'd react. Back then, she had been too flustered to even recognize him.
But now? She was taking it seriously and flipping the script to tease him with his own words.
Bastian slowly turned back, his gaze fixed on her face.
Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the alcohol, and her chest heaved with each breath.
That silent allure was harder to resist than any words, like a tiny needle poking at his heart, causing a subtle ache.
He wondered, 'Is she fighting her own vulnerability this way? Or is she simply craving a fleeting thrill?'
He leaned closer, his voice steady yet cool. "Are you sure you know what you're saying?"
Elena narrowed her eyes, and a smirk played on her lips, laced with a hint of mockery.
Bastian's heart raced, and the boundary he'd drawn for himself was teetering on the edge of breaking.
'Oh my goodness! This woman is such a handful!' he thought.
Elena lazily leaned back against the headboard, her gaze roaming over his taut shoulders and strong waist.
Her breathing grew shallow and rapid, and each look she shot him was laced with a teasing challenge.
"Anything wrong?" she whispered, her tone inviting. "Is it too much for you? Or are you... scared?"
Bastian narrowed his eyes, feeling that fragile boundary start to crack.
She seemed intent on testing his self-control, and he knew that if he let himself slip, the outcome of this night could spiral out of control.
"Are you really sober now?" His voice was low and rough, carrying an underlying warning.
Elena let out a chuckle and casually shot back, "Try it."
Bastian leaned in, his face hovering close to hers.
His warm breath brushed against her lips, and the closeness made it feel like they could kiss at any moment.
Elena felt his warmth against her, and the tantalizing proximity nearly drove her wild.
Her body betrayed her and leaned forward, desperate to close that cruel gap.
Just as Elena was about to close the distance between them, Bastian suddenly turned his head and smiled.
"Looks like you're not quite sober yet." His tone was calm, but it dripped with an unintentional, lethal tease.
Elena had completely lost her mind from the tension. She reached up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him closer with a flash of anger in her eyes.
"Shut up."
Then, without hesitation, she crashed her lips onto his.
At that very moment, all of Bastian's rationality crumbled.
Forgetting his boundary, he gripped her waist tightly and pulled her fully into his embrace.
Their breaths mingled, and it felt like time had frozen at the moment, with everything outside their little bubble fading into oblivion.
"Damn..." Bastian closed his eyes, his voice tinged with reluctant restraint. "You're drunk."
Elena furrowed her brow in annoyance and retorted, "I am not."
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains and poured into the room.
Elena slowly sat up, yet the remnants of a hangover caused her to press a hand to her forehead.
She looked around and heard the sound of water running from the bathroom—obviously, the guy was taking a shower.
Stretching her arms in a big yawn, she felt her spirits lift with the beautiful weather outside.
Everything seemed perfect until she sauntered over to the mirror in the makeup area.
'What the hell!' she screamed in her mind.
The moment she saw the love bites on her neck, her good mood vanished like smoke.
With a deep frown, she muttered, "What a jerk!"
Just as she finished her mumble, the bathroom door creaked open, and Bastian came out. His bathrobe was loosely tied at the waist, revealing a well-defined chest.
He casually dried his hair with a towel, and water droplets dripped from his tousled locks.
"What are you mumbling about?" He raised his eyebrows, his tone lazy and teasing.
Elena fell silent, too annoyed to respond.
She could see that mischievous glint in his eyes—he was definitely doing this on purpose!
With an exasperated glare, she turned and headed toward the door.
As she slipped on her shoes, she said flatly, "There's a check on the nightstand. Consider it the payback, plus your pay of the extra service."
Bastian leaned against the bathroom doorframe, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on her. "Well, at least... introduce ourselves. I'm..."
Before he could finish, she raised a hand to interrupt. "Wait, let's stick to being strangers, like one of those countless FWBs in this city who never see each other again! Got it?"
A flicker of complex emotion passed through Bastian's eyes, but he held his tongue.
Elena threw her bag over her shoulder, exuding a casual confidence. "Fine."
Without waiting for his response, she strode out the door. She moved with confidence as if nothing had ever happened last night.
- Writer
