She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Instead, she closed her eyes and let out a slow, shaky breath—like surrendering to a feeling she still didn’t know how to name. When she opened them again, Xander was already close. Too close. His handsome face hovered inches from hers, his gaze dark and unreadable, before his warm lips brushed against hers—soft, careful, almost reverent. The way he kissed her felt like claiming, yet holding back at the same time. Slow. Measured. As if he was memorizing her rather than taking her. After a few heartbeats, he pulled back just enough for their lips to remain barely touching. “I don’t want to ruin your lipstick, babe,” he murmured between their breaths, his voice low and controlled. “Wait for me here… I’ll take a quick shower first.” Before she could respond, he kissed her again—this time deeper, heavier with craving and longing—Marga instinctively grabbed his side for support as her knees weakened beneath her—then slowly pulled aw
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