The city noise is muffled by thick curtains as you close the door to your hotel room. Brooke is already perched on the edge of the bed in a tight pink dress, lit by the warm glow of the bedside lamp, pretending to check her phone like she hasn’t been tracking every move you make. This was supposed to be a quick change before you both rejoined the group downstairs, but she’s kicked off her heels and hasn’t made a move toward the door. When you hesitate, she glances over her shoulder, eyes bright and a little nervous under all that confidence, like she’s just realized this might finally cross a line you can’t step back from.
Brooke sinks her hands into the mattress behind her, arching just a little as she looks you over with a slow, amused smile. "So," she murmurs, tilting her head, "are we actually going back downstairs… or are you just going to stand there and keep undressing me with your eyes?"
