Sineka's breath shuddered against the silence. The heat of his touch lingered beneath her skin, branding her with every deliberate stroke—and she hated it. Hated the way her body betrayed her, hated the way he unraveled her defenses with nothing more than his hands and a whispered challenge.

And Crocodile—damn him—knew exactly what he was doing.

His smirk curved against her shoulder as he dragged his fingers lower, slow and relentless, teasing the line of her hips with just enough pressure to leave her breathless. Her pulse pounded beneath her skin, sharp and insistent, as if her body had already surrendered before her mind could catch up.

But she wasn't done yet.

Sineka inhaled slowly, steadying herself. Her golden eyes snapped open, sharp with defiance, and she twisted beneath his hands, turning to face him in a single fluid motion that sent water rippling against the porcelain.

Crocodile stilled, his gaze meeting hers with that same infuriating calm—watching, waiting, as if daring her to resist him.

But this time—this time, she wouldn't lose.

Her hand shot out, gripping the front of his shirt and yanking him forward until their faces were only inches apart. Water dripped from her bare skin, soaking the fabric beneath her fingers, but she didn't care. All that mattered was the fire in her chest—the fire he'd stoked too far, too fast, until she had no choice but to burn him with it.

"My turn," she whispered, her breath ghosting against his lips.

Crocodile's eyes narrowed, his smirk twitching at the edges as if she'd amused him. But there was heat behind that gaze now—undeniable, unhidden—and she saw the faint shift in his breath, the subtle tension that coiled beneath his composed exterior.

Good.

Sineka's fingers trailed down the front of his shirt, slow and deliberate, teasing open the first button without breaking eye contact. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her touch, solid and unyielding—but not unaffected.

"Still think you're the one in control?" she murmured.

Crocodile chuckled low in his throat, the sound rough and dark against the steam-thick air. "Careful, woman," he warned. "You're playing with fire."

"Then let me burn," she shot back, pulling him closer until their bodies almost touched, heat and water and tension tangling between them.

For a moment—just a moment—the world narrowed to the space between their lips, to the sharp hitch of breath and the unspoken challenge hanging between them. Her fingers paused at the next button, teasing the fabric apart with agonizing slowness—

Her hand slipped lower, nails grazing faint lines of muscle beneath damp fabric, skimming the waistband of his pants with just enough pressure to leave him wanting. She could feel the sharp inhale beneath her fingers, the faint twitch of control slipping beneath the surface—and she smiled.

"Still think you can play with me, Desert King?"

Crocodile's smirk didn't waver, but something darker flickered in his gaze—something that made the air between them feel heavier, hotter, charged with an edge of danger that stole the breath from her lungs.

"You think you can win this game, woman?" he asked, voice low and rough against her skin.

Sineka leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of his ear with deliberate slowness, her breath warm and taunting against the pulse that beat just beneath the surface.

"I don't think," she whispered.

"I know."

And damn—

Crocodile's patience snapped.

If she wanted to play dirty—

She was about to learn what it meant to lose.

Sineka had always been dangerous, but like a serpent coiled beneath the sun, she hid her venom well.

And now?

Now, she was striking.

Her bare body pressed against him, warm and inviting, her fingertips trailing over his skin—featherlight, infuriatingly teasing. Just enough to tempt. To taunt. But never enough to satisfy.

Crocodile's smirk curled—wicked, knowing, indulgent.

Because she thought she had control now.

She thought she was playing the same game.

Foolish, foolish woman.

But he let her try.

For now.

Sineka's nails raked down his stomach—slow, deliberate—sharp enough to make the muscles beneath her touch tense. Her breath ghosted over his throat, her lips skimming the damp heat of his jaw, his collarbone, her skin slick from the bath's steam.

And then—the cruelest move of all.

She dragged her fingers lower, slipping past the undone waistband of his pants, her touch so light, so unhurried, brushing against his hipbone but—

Not. Quite. Touching.

Crocodile inhaled slowly, golden eyes flashing in warning.

She felt the shift in his breathing, the faint tremor of control slipping beneath his composed exterior, but instead of faltering—

She smirked.

"You seem tense, my king," she purred, mocking his words from earlier, her mouth grazing his ear as her nails traced lazy circles against his abdomen.

Crocodile chuckled low, dark and deep, head tilting slightly, his gaze sharp with amusement and promise.

"You have no idea what you're getting into, woman."

Sineka hummed, her lips dragging along his throat, fingers gripping his waistband, pulling just enough to tease—

And then—

He moved.

So fast—too fast—

One moment, she was in control, taunting, seducing—

And the next?

She was pinned against the edge of the bath, her breath stolen, Crocodile's hand gripping her thigh, pressing her open against the smooth marble, his golden gaze burning into hers.

His hook rested against her waist, cold against overheated skin, his body caging hers completely.

A shift.

A turn.

She had played her hand.

And now?

Now, she was about to learn exactly what it meant to lose.

Crocodile's smirk widened, dangerously slow, his lips brushing her jaw, her ear—his voice dark, low, a warning wrapped in silk.

"You wanted to play, woman?"

His grip tightened, dragging her closer until their bodies pressed flush, the heat of him searing against her, making sure she felt every bit of what she had awakened.

Sineka's breath hitched.

Her fingers trembled, her heartbeat stuttering against her ribs.

Crocodile leaned in further, his mouth ghosting over her parted lips, teasing her with the promise of another devastating kiss—but not giving it.

Not yet.

Instead, he whispered, low, taunting, victorious—

"Then let's play."

Sineka had thought she was winning.

Had thought she had tipped the balance, had made him react, had seized control of this wicked game.

But now—

Now, she was trapped.

Pinned between his body and the cold marble, the heat of the bath licking at her skin, Crocodile's grip firm, unyielding, his hook pressing against her waist as a silent warning.

His mouth hovered just above hers—close enough to steal her breath, close enough to tempt her lips into parting—

But not close enough to kiss her.

Not yet.

The bastard.

Her own breath betrayed her, shaky and uneven, her thighs twitching beneath his palm, still parted, still vulnerable, still held exactly where he wanted her.

And fuck—

She could feel him.

The hard press of his body against hers, the heat radiating from his skin, the way his fingers dug into her flesh just enough to remind her—

She had played her hand.

And now?

Now, she would pay the price.

Crocodile exhaled slowly, his breath warm against her cheek as he dragged his lips along the side of her throat, up to her ear—his voice low, slow, unbearably taunting.

"You're trembling, woman."

Sineka let out a sharp breath, her nails biting into his shoulders, her pride battling the way her body responded to him so shamelessly.

She would not surrender first.

She refused.

So she tilted her chin higher, forcing her voice into something steady, something smooth—even as his lips traced the line of her jaw.

"And you're stalling, Crocodile."

His smirk widened.

Slowly.

Dangerously.

And then—

Without warning, his hand dragged up her inner thigh, fingers spreading over soft, oiled skin—pressing higher, pressing closer—

Sineka gasped.

A small sound—but he heard it.

Of course, he fucking heard it.

His eyes darkened, satisfaction curling at the corners of his mouth.

"Still think I'm stalling?"

Her lips parted, breath caught, her entire body tensing beneath him—

And Crocodile?

He was just getting started.

For a moment—a long, stretched moment—nothing existed but the heat between them.

The air thickened, heavy with steam, tension, and the unspoken battle neither would concede. Sineka's breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in sharp rhythm as Crocodile's hand pressed against her thigh, fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles that burned against her skin. Her nails dug into his shoulders, marks of defiance or surrender—she no longer knew.

But she would not break first.

His gaze burned into hers, golden eyes sharp with challenge and something darker—something that stripped her bare more thoroughly than his hands ever could. Yet beneath the composure, she caught the faint shift in his breath, the tension in his muscles betraying the strain of restraint. A thrill shot through her—because she had made him want.

Her hand slid lower, featherlight, teasing, but his patience snapped too fast.

Sineka gasped as he pinned her back against the smooth marble, his hook grazing her waist with cold finality. The steam clung to her skin, oil-slick and warm, but the heat between them was hotter still—relentless, suffocating. His body caged hers, unyielding and solid as stone.

"You wanted to play, woman?" His breath ghosted against her cheek, low and rough with promise.

Sineka swallowed hard, her pulse thundering against her ribs as his grip tightened against her thigh. Every shift of his body made her acutely aware of the tension coiled between them—the pressure, the heat, the slow, maddening torment that had built from the moment she'd dared to push him too far.

But she wouldn't beg.

Wouldn't yield.

Her lips parted, and her voice came soft, ragged against the air. "And you're still stalling, Crocodile."

A mistake.

The slow curl of his smirk sent a shiver down her spine, dark and knowing and merciless.

"Is that what you think?"

Sineka barely had time to inhale before his hand dragged higher, fingers brushing against her inner thigh with deliberate cruelty—soft at first, then harder, enough to tear a ragged gasp from her lips before she could stop it.

Gods, she hated him.

Hated the way her body betrayed her so easily, so shamelessly—arching into his touch, desperate and unbidden. She clenched her teeth, fighting the instinctive pull, but his fingers moved with maddening precision—pressing, teasing, just enough to break her breath into uneven gasps.

She could feel him smirking against her skin—could feel his breath, hot and steady, as if he knew exactly how easily he could unravel her.

And damn him—

Damn him for knowing.

"You're trembling, woman," he murmured against her throat, voice rough with control.

Sineka's nails raked down his back, sharp enough to leave marks, but it only dragged a low chuckle from his chest—dark, amused, utterly unshaken.

Still—

Still, she refused to break.

Her breath caught in her chest as his fingers dragged lower—so close—too close—until they brushed against her clit with the faintest, cruelest press—

Her whole body jolted.

A sound escaped her lips before she could swallow it, soft and ragged, but enough. Enough for him to feel the sharp intake of her breath, the tremor in her thighs, the way her body betrayed her without mercy.

And just like that—

The game ended.

Crocodile's breath slowed against her cheek. The tension in his shoulders shifted, subtle but unmistakable—victory held just within reach.

He should have taken it.

Should have pressed harder, dragged her over that edge and left her trembling beneath him, ruined and defeated.

But instead—he stopped.

Sineka gasped, her breath ragged and uneven as the absence of his touch left her skin cold and aching. Her chest heaved against his, but he didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stared down at her, golden eyes unreadable.

And then, without a word—he stood.

The air hit her skin like ice. Sineka blinked, dazed, still caught in the breathless haze of what could have been—what should have been. The bathwater lapped softly against the marble, oil-slick and scented with jasmine, the air still thick with steam—

But he was already reaching for a towel.

She stared at him, chest rising and falling too fast, her lips parted as if to demand an explanation—

But Crocodile offered none.

No smirk. No taunt. Not even a glance of amusement.

Just silence.

The towel grazed her shoulders, slow and deliberate as he dried her skin with measured care. Not rough. Not hurried. Just precise. The heat of his hands lingered through the fabric, each touch strangely intimate in its restraint, more devastating than any of his teasing had been.

And then—

Without hesitation—

He lifted her.

Sineka inhaled sharply as his arms closed around her, firm and unyielding as he carried her from the bath. The cool air of the villa kissed her damp skin as they passed through the dim shadows of the room, leaving the steam and jasmine behind.

The bedroom was dark, save for the faint flicker of lantern light against silk sheets and dark wood. Crocodile didn't pause. He laid her down against the mattress with the same deliberate finality—no lingering touch, no second glance—just an end to the moment she hadn't realized she wanted more of.

Sineka stared up at him, her chest still tight, her pulse still racing as she searched his face for some explanation—some hint of what had shifted between them.

But he only smirked, adjusting the towel around her shoulders with detached precision. His golden eyes caught the faint glint of lamplight, unreadable as ever.

"Get some sleep, woman."

And without another word—

He turned away.