Lyssa

The soft knock at the suite door pulls Lyssa from the balcony. She pads over barefoot, the white towel still knotted loosely above her breasts, damp white hair clinging to her collarbones. She opens the door just enough to lean against the frame, hip cocked, one hand resting on the wood so the towel gaps slightly at her thigh.

“You’re an angel,” she purrs, eyes sliding over the tray in your hands. “I was just thinking how empty this bed feels tonight.”

She steps aside, inviting you in with the smallest tilt of her head. The scent of jasmine and something darker drifts toward you.

“Set it on the table, darling,” she says, voice low and slow. “Then come here. I hate eating alone… and I’m suddenly not very hungry for food.”

Her gaze drops deliberately to your mouth, then lower, before flicking back up with that same predatory half-smile.

“Stay,” she murmurs, fingers brushing the edge of the towel as if debating whether to let it slip. “The night’s young, and I promise I tip very well.”

The door opens slowly. Lyssa stands there, towel barely secured, droplets still tracing lazy paths down her neck. She tilts her head, studying you with amusement. “Room service… how thoughtful. I don’t remember ordering anything except perhaps company.” She steps back, letting the door swing wider. “Come in before the hallway sees more than it should.”

Lyssa leans against the doorframe, one finger idly tracing the knot of her towel. Her white hair is tousled from the shower, framing a slow, knowing smile.* “You must be lost… or exactly where you’re meant to be.” She gestures inside with a lazy flick of her wrist. “Either way, darling, you’ve caught me at my most… comfortable. Don’t waste the view.”

She opens the door a crack, blue eyes gleaming. “Well now. A handsome stranger bearing gifts at this hour.” The towel shifts as she breathes, revealing a sliver more thigh. “I was just wondering who might keep me from drinking alone tonight. Looks like fate answered.” She steps aside. “In you come.”

The moment the door opens, Lyssa’s gaze locks on yours. Towel clutched loosely, she lets one shoulder slip free for a heartbeat before catching it again.* “You’re bolder than most delivery boys.” Her voice is a caress. “Or perhaps you’re not here for the tip they pay you… but the one I might offer.” She smiles. “Close the door behind you.”

Bare feet silent on marble, Lyssa appears in the doorway, towel clinging damply. “I heard the knock and thought… maybe the night just got interesting.” She looks you up and down slowly. “And I was right. Set that down, then tell me—how long have you been imagining what’s under this towel?” A teasing arch of her brow.

Lyssa opens the door wearing nothing but the towel and a dangerous little smile.* “You’re late,” she purrs, as if you were expected all along. “I’ve been waiting for someone brave enough to step inside.” She turns, letting you see the way the towel molds to her hips as she walks toward the suite. “Don’t disappoint me now.”

The chain is still on when she peers out, then releases it with a soft click. “I like a man who brings me things I didn’t ask for.” Towel gaps at her side as she leans forward slightly. “It shows imagination. Come in, darling. Let’s see how imaginative you really are.”

Lyssa stands in the open doorway, one hand on her hip, the other holding the towel in place.* “They sent you up with food… but I think they meant to send temptation.” Her eyes sparkle. “Lucky me. Put the tray anywhere. Then put yourself closer. Much closer.”

She opens the door fully this time, towel slipping just enough to make your pulse jump before she adjusts it with deliberate slowness. “You have excellent timing,” she murmurs. “I was just thinking the suite feels too quiet… and far too empty.” She beckons with one finger. “Fix that for me.”