Rain lifted his arm slightly, revealing the cut. Daisy leaned closer. The scent of his cologne—clean, subtle—brushed past her, making it hard to think straight.
"This doesn't look like something you get from bumping into a sharp object," she murmured, dabbing the wound with antiseptic.
Rain didn't answer right away. He only watched her, eyes calm, unreadable.
"I can guarantee it was a sharp object," he said finally.
Her hand stilled for a second. "…Meaning you fought someone armed enough to leave a cut this deep?"
He tilted his head, as if weighing how much to give away.
"Meaning you ask too many questions for someone who worries this much."
"That's exactly why I'm asking," she said softly. "If you're hurt, I should know what happened."
His lips curved into a faint smirk.
"And why should you?"
Her breath faltered. She looked away, pretending to focus on the bandage.
"Because you're… our client. And it could affect our project. And you're my neighbour."
He let out a low hum, almost disappointed.
"Neighbour…," he repeated.
She tied the bandage carefully. "There. Done. Don't get it wet tonight."
As she moved to sit beside him, her foot slipped. She lost her balance and fell straight into his lap. Her body pressed against his bare chest, her face brushing his neck.
The heat of his skin seeped through the thin fabric, warm, masculine, intoxicating. His cologne hit her instantly—deep, addictive, impossible to ignore.
Between the warmth of his body and the pull of his scent, her thoughts scattered. In the heat of the moment, she felt dizzy, reckless, almost unaware of herself.
Before she could stop herself, she tilted her head and placed a soft kiss on his neck.
Rain froze. A sharp breath escaped him, not quite a groan, not quite a warning.
She didn't pull away. Another kiss followed, then another, lower, her lips brushing over his chest, tracing the lines of his body.
His fingers twitched. His jaw tightened. Heat rushed through him, control thinning fast.
Before it slipped completely, he caught her arms, firm but careful, lifting her upright on his lap.
"Ms. Daisy…" he murmured, his voice low, strained, almost pleading.
That was enough.
Reality crashed into her. The closeness. The kisses. His voice. His hands.
"I… I'm sorry, Mr. Rain," she whispered, shaken, her face burning.
She scrambled off his lap, grabbed the first-aid box, and rushed for the door, escaping before he could speak, her heart pounding louder than her footsteps.