Chapter 164: A Group, After all…
Élisa’s enthusiasm hadn’t evaporated. It still pulsed beneath her skin, burned softly in her golden eyes — but by some miracle or sheer discipline, she had refrained from undressing in Dylan’s room.
For now.
"Hasn’t Dylan already seen more skin than that?" she asked suddenly, sounding thoughtful. Her voice rose into the room and hung there like lazy mist, clinging to nothing — and everything.
Maggie rolled her eyes in a slow, reluctant motion, as if even gravity was tired of helping her. Then she let her face fall into her palm, visibly drained.
"Circumstances are different," she finally replied, her fingers spread just enough to let one tired eye peek through. "And where we come from... showing more skin to a man usually means you love him. Or something like that."
Dylan didn’t move. He knew better than to speak. This was a moment to observe, catalog, breathe shallowly — like an animal cautious in a forest full of charming, unpredictable predators.
Élisa nodded slightly, as though she’d just learned a strange new rule in a foreign game. Then she let herself fall onto the bed, right by his legs. And without any regulation or finesse, she flopped backwards — headfirst — and landed against his stomach with the grace of a full sack of rice.
Dylan lost his breath, but said nothing.
His arms remained crossed behind his head. He stared at the ceiling. Intensely.
Élisa, her cheek pressed against his stomach, spoke with that quiet honesty that belonged only to her.
"It’s the same here too, isn’t it? Showing more skin, loving someone, all that..."