Garments of both sexes littered the floor.
A torn bra lay atop a white shirt, casualties of their fervor.
Emerging from the bathroom, Derek, clad only in a towel around his waist, tread upon the lace edges, ensnared in the vortex of light.
"Once more time," he demanded.
On the bed, Kirstyn, having just experienced a pinnacle of pleasure, looked up to see him gulp down a bowl of potent medicine.
Even when furrowing his brow, he was breathtaking, Kirstyn mused.
If only she were truly unable to see, would she be freed from loving this bad man?
A pang of sadness gripped her, her face buried in the bedding to stifle the sour emotions.
Love was akin to a knife, stabbing whoever dared to love first.
Setting down the bowl, Derek advanced towards Kirstyn, needing some sweetness after the bitter medicine.
His palm's heat caused her skin to tighten; another round tonight?
Was this aphrodisiac's potency truly this intense? Was he sure he wouldn't exhaust himself like this?
In her kindness, she remarked, "You don't need to push yourself so hard; thirty minutes is not short. Besides, medicine can be as much poison as cure. Be careful of..."
Sperm exhaustion.
What did she think he was taking?
His expression turned dark, Derek's brows knitted slightly upward in annoyance. "Who's pushing? That's cold medicine!"
As he exerted force, the bed strained, and Kirstyn struggled to keep up.
Her just-dressed nightgown, tousled by his fervor, now lay in disarray.
"Be gentle, okay?" she pleaded.
"Mmm—" Kirstyn's mouth was muffled.
The room was bathed in bright light, illuminating the desire in his eyes, predatory and unrestrained, pressing down on her, overwhelming her, as if yearning to devour her.
Amidst this damp and sticky breath, a string of cellphone rings intruded.
Derek, still not sated, stared at Kirstyn's slender waist.
His hands closed around it, fitting perfectly, bearing the imprints of his passion.
The phone's incessant ringing refused to cease.
Grabbing the phone, he glanced at the caller ID, his movements swift. As he answered the call, his hand covered Kirstyn's mouth.
Though her body still trembled, she watched as he leaned over, his arms on either side of her, muscles taut.
Suddenly, however, her vision blurred.
Recalling the doctor's words, she knew her blindness could strike at any moment, necessitating prompt corneal transplant surgery.
"Dr. Crownover, my eyes hurt terribly. Can I take painkillers?" came a fragile voice.
"I've found corneas for you. We can schedule the surgery right away."
He, so cold and aloof, wasn't incapable of tenderness, merely never showed that side to her.
The woman on the other end couldn't contain her excitement. "So, I'll be able to see you soon?"
Kirstyn tensed, feeling Derek's heavy breath against her ear, the air thick with tension.
"Mm," she heard him softly respond.
"But this morning, I overheard a nurse saying that these corneas were meant for someone else."
Kirstyn stared at the face before her, so close yet still blurry.
Derek's brow subtly furrowed. Those gossipy nurses.
In a tone devoid of warmth, he replied, "Your situation is urgent. Let others wait."
Kirstyn's lips quivered, as if condemned to death.
Mr. Crownover intervened; surely, obtaining a pair of corneas would be a trivial matter for him.
But did he know that the "someone else" he mentioned was her?
Those eyes originally belonged to her.
Kirstyn had waited for half a year, finally obtaining those corneas, only for Derek to effortlessly snatch them away.
...
The man rose from the bed, pulling on his pants and grabbing his shirt from the side. Clear and deep scratch marks adorned his back.
"Derek, if my eyes were also blind and I needed surgery, who would you prioritize?" Kirstyn's voice settled, watching Derek turn around. A shadow fell over her, and her chin was gripped.
"Are you blind?" he asked.
She swallowed hard. "I said 'if.'"
"Then we'll talk when you're blind."
Derek didn't believe for a second that Kirstyn would go blind. He remembered how she had stared at him so intently just now, especially at his lower half.
He buttoned up his shirt one by one. "Don't play these jealousy games with me. Aubrey doesn't have your cunning; she can't outsmart you."
Seeing the emptiness in her eyes, as silent as a dry well, he felt bored.
Derek reached out and cupped Kirstyn's face again. His fingertips caressed her soft cheek. "But if you were really blind, I would get you treated too."
He noticed a glimmer in her eyes as she looked up at him.
He smiled, leaning closer. "But, you'd have to wait in line behind Aubrey."
...
Derek didn't stay overnight. After the car drove away, Grace pushed open the door and entered. "Miss."
Kirstyn sat on the edge of the bed, her clothes still not properly worn.
Grace hurriedly picked up the nightgown to drape it over her. "Mr. Crownover has left."
"I know."
"Haven't you told him about your eyes?"
"He said he'd attend to Aubrey first."
Grace, having followed Kirstyn from the Lynch family, had deep affection for her. "But, Miss, are you really going to compete with Aubrey?"
"It's not about competing. Those corneas were meant for me."
With concern etched on her face, Grace fretted, "Mr. Crownover has intervened. I'm afraid you're no match for him."
Kirstyn lifted her gaze, her eyes slightly red. Grace watched, anxious. "Don't cry, your eyes won't bear it. Please don't cry."
Grace looked at her, seeing only a flicker of light in Kirstyn's eyes, sometimes bright, sometimes dim.