Ava Sterling changes her intimate clothing every day, without which she cannot sleep, so she has only two choices now. Either go without, and leave it bare or wear this thong. Weighing the options, Ava chooses the latter. Wearing a bit is always better than nothing. So, she deftly takes out a black thong and a men’s shirt, wraps herself in it, and steps out. The bathroom door is closed, with the sound of rushing water coming from inside. Ava takes a glance before turning her attention back to the red roses in the bedroom. The roses are vibrant and in full bloom, clearly picked at the peak of their beauty, and the petals scattered on the carpet are also rose petals. However, they are not crimson but a tender pink, very pretty. Ava throws her clothes on the bed, sits directly on the petals, and smells the roses. The roses carry a faint fragrance, and upon closer scent, you can smell the fresh dew, which is incredibly refreshing. Ava closes her eyes, leans in towards the bunch of red roses, and takes a deep breath. Truly fragrant, truly pleasant. Ava doesn’t normally use perfume. To her, no matter how you blend it, it becomes artificial; she likes the real, not the fake. That’s why she doesn’t buy expensive perfumes; she doesn’t care for them. The scent on her is usually from shampoo, body wash, and laundry detergent—a natural fragrance. Smelling these roses gets her captivated, making her forget where she is. Poe Vaughn finishes washing up and comes out to see Ava cross-legged on the carpet, with her arms open, holding the roses as she lowers her head to enjoy their scent. He pauses in his steps. Her long hair cascades down, with the hairpin precariously hanging. She leans forward, embracing a bunch of roses, eyes closed, savoring the fragrance. Her lips curve into a smile, her cheeks filled with joy, satisfaction, and happiness. Her smile is beautiful, yet like that of a child, simple and pure. Poe looks at her fair face, her smile, and speaks: "Ava." This update is available on novel(ꜰ)ire.net Ava instinctively responds and then turns to see the person standing at the bathroom door. At this moment, she is stunned. Poe is wearing a bathrobe, with the belt loosely and casually tied, exposing much of his chest. One glance reveals his well-defined, muscular frame. The water droplets on him seem not properly dried, or maybe he barely wiped them; they trail down his physique, disappearing into the depths of that grove. Ava swallows, instinctively moving her gaze from Poe’s chest to his pair of long, straight legs. Usually wrapped in suit pants, those long legs hide their original look, but now she sees them. These long legs are straight and powerful, muscles taut, clearly indicating this is not someone to be messed with. Otherwise, one kick would send you flying to the Pacific Ocean. Oh, that’s not what’s important; what’s important is that looking at those legs reminds her of the scene in the Maldives hotel before. Miraculously, despite drinking a lot that night, her memory should be blurred, but now those memories are crystal clear as if polished glass. Ava’s heart skips wildly, forcing herself to turn her gaze, silently chanting the line from the Heart Sutra—form is emptiness, emptiness is form. Watching as that bare gaze is forcibly turned away, Poe speaks, "Go wash up." Ava’s mind is not clear because her head is full of the images from that night, which no amount of meditation can erase. The deep, magnetic voice falls into her ears, making Ava’s heart jump, bringing a sliver of rational thought back. Quickly, she releases the roses, stands up: "Oh!" She swiftly heads to the bathroom, not daring to look at Poe Vaughn at all. Poe’s gaze falls on the shirt on the bed, with the black thong subtly peeking through, and he says, "Your clothes." Ava snaps back to reality, looks at her hands which are empty, then at the bed, where her clothes are still lying neatly; she quickly grabs them and rushes into the bathroom. Poe stands there, listening to the subtly shaking door, as he dries his hair and heads to the closet. At this moment, the scent of flowers gently floats through the air, growing richer in the silent night... Ava takes quite a while with her shower—not intentionally, nor out of fear of coming out—but to mentally prepare not to lose control and pounce on Poe Vaughn. Thankfully, her rationality remains intact. The warm water washes over her body, gradually diffusing the heat in her heart, and she finally calms down, gets dressed, and emerges. On the two-meter-wide bed, Poe is leaning against the headboard, reading a book, as if it’s his habit to read before bed. Ava glances at him, then directly lifts the blanket and gets into bed, donning an expression of serene detachment. But at that moment, a low voice falls into her ears: "Dry your hair." Ava pauses, immediately touches her hair, which is completely wet. She had forgotten she washed her hair, simply wrapping it up before showering, completely forgetting about washing her hair. Getting out of bed, she heads to the closet to get the hairdryer. Earlier, when looking for clothes, she noticed it. Ava picks up the hairdryer and starts blowing her hair. Outside the bedroom, Poe watches as she enters the closet. She’s wearing his dark shirt, the length reaching just below her thighs, revealing her long, slender legs. Her fair skin is enticing. He doesn’t need to think to know why she’s not wearing a nightgown but his shirt. What she doesn’t know is that this shirt on her is no less alluring than any sexy lingerie, perhaps even more so. A black thong flashes through his mind, and Poe averts his gaze, continuing to read. Except, he hasn’t turned the page since Ava entered the bathroom. Ava dries her long hair but doesn’t bother to comb it and comes out with it all tousled, avoiding looking around as she lifts the blanket and gets into bed. The entire movement is swift and smooth, like flowing water. Poe watches as she neatly lies on the bed, her long hair spread across the pillow like black silk, reaching over to his side. He looks at her as she lies on her side, back to him, eyes shut tight, lips pressed close, clutching the blanket, as if practicing some righteous martial arts to ward off demons. He averts his gaze, closes the book, and places it on the bedside table, lying down and pulling the blanket over him. Unlike Ava’s quick efficiency, his every movement is meticulous and precise, without a hint of rush. One could say, Ava can clearly hear what each of his actions entails. It’s truly unnerving. The blanket is large enough to accommodate both comfortably. Ava almost leans against the edge of the bed, while Poe lies peacefully on one side. Yet even so, there remains a significant gap between them, as if capable of holding a galaxy. The bedroom is equipped with motion sensor lights, which gradually dim as Poe lies down.