37. Just To Clarify

Carver settled gently on the edge of the bed, observing the way the room's soft, ambient lighting cast a golden halo around her naked figure. She lay on the bed like a painting come to life—elegant yet deeply human. Her eyes met his, and there it was again: that indistinct pout, like a cloud passing over the sun. An obvious sign that something needed addressing.

"Why'd you stop?" she questioned, her words carrying a trace of unspoken vulnerability. The pout deepened ever so slightly, a visual echo of her inquiry.

Carver felt a flutter of something in his chest—guilt, maybe, or perhaps just the age-old dilemma of desire wrestling with caution. "Because I can," he replied, attempting nonchalance. But internally, he realized he'd probably stopped for his own sake just as much as hers. There was something dangerously intoxicating about this moment, about her. He recognized that if he didn't put on the brakes, he'd risk crossing lines that could cost him everything.

He looked away from A