chapter1208

Lysander's grip was firm and strong, his palm exuding a warmth that signaled power and danger.

Thalassa dared not resist for fear of being torn apart.

When they returned to the room, Thalassa pulled away from his grasp and strode towards the bed. "I'm

beat," she said, feigning tiredness. "I want to sleep. Don't you need a shower? Go freshen up."

"Join me," Lysander's voice resonated with a low magnetic timbre.

Thalassa whirled around in shock, her eyes wide and frantic. "What... what did you just say?"

"Help me shower," Lysander replied. "Took a hit to the leg, you know. Can't risk getting it wet; might get

infected. You're all about tending to my wounds, aren't you?"

She was at a loss for words. The excuse was bulletproof.

After all, his leg was hurt while saving her. She couldn't just abandon him.

Taking a deep breath, Thalassa forced a smile. "Fine, I'll help you."

In the bathroom, she began to help him undress. Standing so close, her head barely reached his

shoulder. At a decent height of five-foot-five, she was not short by any means, but next to Lysander's

towering frame, she seemed petite.

Her fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt—one, two...

Concentrating on the task at hand, she avoided his gaze. As his shirt fell open, his lean, well-defined

muscles began to reveal themselves—the ruggedness of his Adam's apple, the tautness of his chest—

all exuding a raw, masculine allure.

The heavy scent of his pheromones filled the air, entangling with Thalassa's breathing.

She had started with pure intentions, her mind void of wayward thoughts. But as she glimpsed the body

beneath his clothes, her heart began to falter, her breathing slowed to a shallow rhythm.

She tried focusing solely on his shirt buttons, yet her peripheral vision kept catching glimpses of his taut

skin and muscular lines, irresistibly drawing her eyes, tempting her heart.

Lysander watched from above with a deep interest, his gaze shifting from evaluative to amused.

He saw the natural hue of her face turn to excitement, her complexion shifting from pale to flushed. As

she undid the last button of his shirt, even her earlobes reddened.

Despite their many encounters, she still blushed, still showed shyness.

Seeing her bashful demeanor, Lysander felt a surge of satisfaction.

At least it proved she couldn't resist his physique.

He stood still, letting Thalassa proceed with the task.

After the shirt, came the pants. She hesitated but, remembering how he had been injured in her

defense, she mustered the courage and reached for his belt.

The belt buckle, however, was sophisticated and she struggled to undo it.

Frustrated, she fumbled with the buckle until Lysander's large hand covered her smaller one, his voice

deep and teasing, "Can't figure it out, huh?"

Thalassa's hand trembled beneath his rough touch. She tried to withdraw but couldn't.

A glint flickered in Lysander's eyes, pleased by her admission.

His deep gaze fixed on her as he instructed, "Now, pull the belt through." Co?tent of Dr?мovеls.cоm

Thalassa blinked in astonishment and did as told.

The belt slid out, and she swallowed nervously.

"Zipper," Lysander coaxed gently.