The golden-haired girl, sprawled on the floor like some fallen goddess, her soft curves barely hidden beneath that thin nightdress, had stirred something in him.
Steve's hand remained outstretched, a silent offer of help—or maybe something more.
He still had his usual charm ready, like a card tucked up his sleeve, just in case things got tricky.
But for now, he simply waited.
Without a word, without even glancing at him, she moved.
Her fingers curled around the scattered snacks—the bread rolls and baked biscuits that lay forgotten on the floor—and she pressed them tightly against the swell of her breasts.
The sight was arresting- those ample, soft mounds barely contained by that fragile fabric, nipples pressing hard against the cloth, a teasing silhouette that promised more than it revealed.
She lifted herself up with a soft, almost broken sigh, and then she turned away, fleeing the scene with quick, almost frantic steps.
