Tristan walked out of the bathroom some minutes later, his hair still somewhat damp. He ran a towel casually through his hair, unaware of the presence of the person currently in his bedroom.
When Erica first saw him without a shirt, she instinctively bit her lip. His chest, arms, and stomach were etched with perfectly defined muscles, as if sculpted into flawless form. A black towel rested low on his hips, accentuating the sharp, masculine V-shape of his waist.
Tristan was an attractive man in his suits, he always looked controlled and dominant, a shirtless version of him made dirty thoughts race in her mind and she was even more eager to have what she planned to happen quickly between them.
She wouldn't mind if he wanted her as a toy, she wouldn't mind if he destroyed her body while at it, he could use her without restraint if he wanted to.
