Jason stepped through the front door of his estate and was immediately greeted by silence.
The place felt unusually still. No faint footsteps, no distant humming. Just the low hum of the air conditioning. He slipped off his shoes and glanced toward the second floor.
"She must still be hiding in her room," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
He changed into a pair of shorts and a tank, grabbed a water bottle and towel, and stepped out the back. The air was crisp, the evening sun casting long shadows over the six-building property. As he stood on the patio, he let his eyes drift from structure to structure, memories settling into place like puzzle pieces.
To the left was the security quarters—a modest but heavily fortified building where his guards lived. To the right, the storage facility: boats, jet skis, even a few collector cars sat idle inside. Just beyond it, a natural lake reflected the late sunlight. One building housed the estate staff, another was a quiet retreat lodge meant for meditation or study.
And directly in front of him?
The gym.
With a groan, Jason jogged over, swiped his keycard, and stepped inside.
Two hours later, he staggered out, shirt clinging to him with sweat, arms shaking.
"I'm never working out with those lunatics again," he grunted. His security guards, particularly Tyrone and Brax, had pushed him beyond what he thought was reasonable. "They treat chest day like a full-contact sport."
Jason stepped outside the gym for a moment, catching his breath. The sun had dipped lower, casting a golden-orange hue across the estate. His skin prickled with sweat as a breeze passed over him, cooling him just enough to keep standing. From where he stood, he could see Daisy's window light was off. Probably still hiding. He shook his head, took a swig of water, and wiped his forehead with the towel.
"Just a shower, then bed," he muttered to himself, turning toward the house.
Too tired to climb the stairs, Jason headed into the downstairs washroom with the intent of a quick soak. He peeled off his soaked shirt and tossed it into the hamper, then set his towel and water on the rack.
Daisy stirred in her room. She sat up on the edge of her bed, her fingers curling into the bedsheets. Her heart had calmed since that night, but her mind still raced. She hadn't dared to face Jason since the incident—him sleepwalking into her room, triggering a reaction in her sealed yin-yang body that caused her dormant personality to surface.
She couldn't face him. Not yet.
She crept toward her door, cracked it open, and peeked out. No movement. Carefully, still in her oversized nightgown, she tiptoed down the hall.
As she neared the downstairs bathroom, she noticed something odd: the light was on.
Did I leave that on?
She paused by the door, only to hear faint music and the sound of water. Slowly, she pressed her eye to the crack—and froze.
Jason was there.
His body, still dripping with sweat and now slick from the bathwater, was leaned back in the tub, headphones in, eyes closed. Even under the fogged mirror and steamy glass, his physique was detailed. Broad chest, carved abs, muscular arms resting lazily on the rim of the tub.
She should've turned around. Should've backed away.
But her feet moved on their own.
She opened the door—quietly.
Jason didn't notice. The music still played in his ears.
She stepped in, slowly. Her face was flushed. She watched as he shifted slightly in the tub, his muscles tensing briefly then relaxing. His body was distracting, but his face…
So suckable.
She couldn't help it. Something stirred deep within her. Her fingers trembled as she slipped the straps of her gown off her shoulders, letting it fall silently to the ground. Then her undergarments. She stepped over them as if in a trance.
She climbed into the bath, the water parting around her.
Jason had just hit replay on the third loop of a catchy R&B song. He had to admit, the music in this world wasn't half bad. Way better than he expected for a side note in a novel world.
His thoughts drifted until—he felt it.
Something touched his side.
He opened his eyes and nearly choked.
"Daisy?" he blinked.
She was in the tub with him. Naked. Her hair damp at the tips, her body halfway submerged—but enough was visible to steal his breath.
Her eyes were half-lidded, that familiar flirtatious smirk curling her lips.
"You know, peeking on someone in the washroom isn't exactly a good practice," Jason muttered, his voice low.
"So is feeling someone up while they're asleep," she countered without missing a beat.
"I was sleepwalking."
"And I'm simply acting on my impulse."
Her foot glided up his leg. Jason flinched. Before he could say anything, both her feet wrapped around his length under the water.
"Your junior definitely likes what he sees," she whispered, moving her feet slowly.
Jason clenched his jaw.
Not again.
He couldn't let her dominate the scene. Not twice.
He slid his foot toward her, shifting the angle just right, then tilted his toes until one pressed between her folds, brushing gently across her sensitive spot.
She gasped, eyes fluttering, then pressed her feet more firmly against him, moving faster.
It became a battle of will and sensation. Neither wanted to give in first. Their bodies trembled as tension built.
And then—release.
They both shuddered, breathing heavy, water sloshing as they recovered.
Daisy pulled herself up, standing tall and dripping with suds.
"I guess it's a draw this time," she said with a smirk, walking toward the shower.
Jason's eyes followed her, from her curvy hips to the arch of her back. Even through the steamed glass, her figure remained clear enough to torture his senses.
His body responded.
Again.
Jason stood, drained but aroused. He unplugged the tub, stepped out, and opened the glass door to the shower.
Daisy turned, her eyes immediately landing on his growing arousal.
A smile tugged at her lips.
"Seems like someone didn't get enough."
Before he could reply, she shoved him back into the tiled wall, lifted her thigh, and lined herself up—trapping him between her legs.
"You're gonna learn today," she whispered.
Jason barely had time to brace himself.
She began to move—slow, rhythmic, grinding down with precision. The heat, the motion, the water running over both of them… It was overwhelming.
Jason clenched his fists, trying to resist. He had already come. He was too sensitive.
But she didn't care.
She kept her pace, her hips working methodically, her breath hot against his chest.
He groaned, trying to hold on.
But it was useless.
With a final thrust, he exploded once again, his legs giving out slightly as his body slumped down against the wall.
Daisy stepped back with a victorious grin, grabbed a towel from the rack, and threw it over her shoulder.
"Until next time," she teased, walking out of the bathroom without a care in the world.
Jason sat on the shower floor, dazed.
"She did it again…" he muttered, staring up at the ceiling. "And I still couldn't fight back."