Mila's face paled; she didn't know what to do at the moment. Look away, act invisible, or just run. But to where? This was his house!
"Did the sheep walk in willingly to the slaughter?" Zyran asked, holding a towel on his hair, a loose towel snugly latched to his slender waist, with a few drops of water trickling down his chest running through the scorpion tattoo down to his abs.
Mila tried her best to keep her eyes raised, but it was like all she could see was Zyran's body.
"Th-" Mila pointed downstairs. "The bell wasn't working."
Zyran smirked, turning his back on her to stand in front of his mirror. He leaned closer and dried his hair while watching Mila's expression from the mirror.
Mila was staring. She couldn't hide it anymore. This wasn't how she expected the body of a wealthy brat to be. He—
He had scars on his back! Lots of them. And the tattoo paintings on his arm, including the one on his chest.
