Read Novel Full Chapter 968 Passive
Chapter 968: Chapter 968 Passive
Alexa’s heartbeat thudded harder with each imagined touch, each fleeting brush of his fingers.
She had never admitted it before, but being this close, watching him work, feeling the heat of his body so near—it was electrifying.
The minutes stretched into an hour.
The soft click of screws being tightened and the muted scrape of tools against the wood filled the room.
Outside, the house remained quiet, the only witnesses the shadows and the soft hum of the evening.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Their focus was on the cabinet, yet neither could ignore the subtle, unspoken tension that had built between them.
Ross finally paused and looked at her.
"Hold it a little to the left... perfect," he said, his voice low, smooth, almost hypnotic.
Alexa’s hands moved instinctively, her fingers brushing against his as she adjusted the flashlight.
A small jolt of awareness ran through her, and she swallowed, trying to steady her racing heartbeat.
Ross’s eyes lingered on her longer than necessary, taking in the curve of her cheek, the glow of her skin, the subtle tension in her posture.
It was a simple glance, but in it was a world of promise and anticipation.
Alexa felt heat rise to her chest, realizing how close she had leaned without even thinking.
The cabinet was no longer just a project.
It was a stage for quiet seduction, a slow-burning prelude to what the night might hold.
Each movement, each touch, each glance between them built a charged energy that neither wanted to dissipate too quickly.
And in that small room, filled with the faint scent of wood and polish, Ross and Alexa were acutely aware of the silent game that had begun—a game that promised pleasures far beyond the ordinary.
"Almost there," Ross said, his voice smooth and low, as he surveyed the nearly finished cabinet.
The quiet of the night pressed in around them; the house was still, except for the faint hum of the city outside and the occasional creak of the old floorboards.
Ross knew this was the perfect moment—private, unobserved, and charged with anticipation.
He stretched deliberately, rolling his shoulders and loosening his arms before slowly sliding off his long-sleeved polo.
Alexa’s breath caught. Her eyes widened involuntarily as she took in the man before her.
Ross stood tall, his chest broad and firm, every muscle carved with the precision of a master sculptor.
His abdomen was taut, the lines of his obliques shifting as he moved.
Not a hint of excess, not a single ounce of weakness.
He radiated power, vitality, and raw masculinity.
Her pulse quickened, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum.
A sudden heat pooled low in her abdomen, and instinctively she pressed her thighs together.
Her hands trembled, uncertain where to place themselves.
The warmth spreading through her body was undeniable, undeniable and unwelcome.
She clenched her jaw and took three deep, trembling breaths, forcing herself to try to calm down.
Her mind fought desperately against the tide of desire surging through her, recalling Russell, her husband, the vows she had made, the life she had chosen.
Stay strong. Focus. Control yourself... she told herself, closing her eyes for strength.
Yet even as she willed herself to remain composed, her body betrayed her.
She could feel the heat of desire crawling up her spine, her core pulsing with a craving she had never allowed herself to fully acknowledge.
Every subtle movement Ross made—the slight flex of his biceps, the ripple of his shoulders, the faint smirk on his lips—drew her deeper into a current she could not resist.
Her breath came in shallow gasps now, and her fingers itched to touch, to feel, to give in.
The smell of him—the faint scent of musk and something uniquely Ross—filled the air, intoxicating her senses.
Her legs felt weak, and she pressed them together tightly, as if sheer force of will could contain her reaction.
Yet each second she spent standing there only made her awareness of him sharper, more acute.
Her eyes, half-lidded, couldn’t help but trace the line of his arms, the strength in his thighs, the way his chest expanded with each breath.
Ross, ever patient, observed her silently.
He could see every flicker of her emotion, every hesitation, every conflict warring inside her.
A faint, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He did not move closer, did not speak.
He let the tension build, the silence stretch, and the air thicken between them.
He knew the power of anticipation, the pull of restrained temptation.
He had orchestrated this moment with precision, knowing exactly how long it would take for desire to claw its way to the surface.
Alexa, meanwhile, felt herself unraveling.
Her mind screamed at her to remember her principles, but her body had already begun to betray her.
She could almost feel her love juices pooling, her inner heat pressing insistently, demanding release.
The sheer magnetism of Ross’s presence, the strength and confidence radiating from him, made her knees tremble and her resolve falter.
Every nerve in her body felt alive, every cell attuned to him, and yet her mind fought with all its power to hold firm.
Her eyes darted around, catching fleeting glimpses of the shadows in the room, the soft glow of the lamp, and she imagined what it would be like to touch him, to feel him, to surrender.
She shivered, part with fear, part with longing, and pressed her palms against her thighs as if sheer force of will could shield her from the storm within.
Ross let her struggle play out. He didn’t move closer, didn’t speak.
He simply existed as a living embodiment of temptation, a challenge to her self-control.
And in that silence, in that charged stillness, Alexa realized the depth of her own desire.
She was already ensnared, already caught in the invisible web he had woven around her senses, and she knew that resisting him would take more than resolve—it would take a miracle.