WESTLEY

This is not a good idea.

I TOOK a deep breath before knocking on his cabin. Then a few moments later, the wooden floor squeaked, and the door swung open.

Holy! Why in the hell was this man so hot? I mean like off that chart freaking hot. My breathing held in my lungs for a moment and my wide eyes landed down below his face. Unconsciously.

Groaning, I turned around because my face was probably red. I could feel the blood rushing up my neck. Clyve was half-naked, and only on his running tight pants. His wreathed forearms were like carved by Renaissance sculptor.

With just a quick...