Gwen stepped into the room and immediately spotted Ross sitting casually on a simple plastic bench. His torso was bare, glistening with sweat, every line of his lean, athletic frame visible.
His muscles, while not overly large, were well-defined—a picture of youthful athleticism. Yet, to Gwen, he was nothing more than a monster.
She narrowed her eyes, her expression hardening. "Why did you call me here?" she asked coldly, a sharp edge in her voice.
Ross smirked, leaning back slightly, his confidence radiating from every movement.
"We're both adults, Gwen. You and I both know why you're here." His voice was calm, almost taunting.
"You have 15 minutes to make me come. If not, well…" He shrugged nonchalantly.
"I don't mind taking my time. My team is up by a ridiculous margin—they won't miss me. But your partner outside? Now, he might start wondering why you're taking so long. We both know he's got a thing for your married body, doesn't he?"