Hands her his shirt.

As Tyrese took the two large steps, Bianca felt her heart racing, and her eyes remained fixed on his chiseled chest. She couldn't help but notice the way his muscles rippled beneath his dark skin as he moved. Her mind went blank, and she forgot about everything else around her, including the fact that she had a boyfriend.

Tyrese's eyes locked onto hers, a hint of amusement dancing in their depths. He held out his shirt, the fabric dangling from his fingers, and Bianca's gaze dropped to the stained material. She reached out, her hand brushing against his as she took the shirt from him.

As their hands touched, Bianca felt a jolt of electricity run through her body, and she quickly withdrew her hand, her cheeks flushing even deeper. Tyrese's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, seeming to enjoy her reaction. He leaned against the washer, his hip resting against the edge, and Bianca couldn't help but notice the way his jeans hugged his thighs.

"Thanks for taking care of my shirt," he said, his deep voice low and smooth, sending shivers down Bianca's spine. "I guess I owe you one." Bianca shook her head, trying to clear the haze from her brain, and **** a smile onto her face. "No need to thank me,"she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

As she turned to put the shirt into the washer, Tyrese's eyes roamed over her body, taking in the way his oversized jacket hung off her shoulders, and the way her hair fell down her back like a waterfall of silk. He couldn't help but feel drawn to her, despite knowing she had a boyfriend. There was something about her innocence, her naivety, that called to him.

Bianca, sensing his gaze on her, felt a flutter in her chest. She tried to shake off the feeling, telling herself she was being ridiculous. She had a boyfriend, after all.

With the shirt safely deposited, Bianca closed the washer lid and turned to face Tyrese, a soft flush still lingering on her cheeks. "Okay, let me change and I can give you the jacket back," she said, her voice husky and barely above a whisper.

As Bianca moved towards her bedroom, the soft rustle of Tyrese's jacket against her skin served as a reminder of the unfamiliar presence in her apartment. She felt a flutter in her chest, her heart beating slightly faster with each step. The sensation was both exhilarating and unsettling, like standing at the edge of a precipice, staring into an unknown abyss.

Tyrese's eyes followed her, his gaze lingering on the gentle sway of her hips as she walked. The dim lighting in the apartment seemed to amplify the intimacy of the moment, casting long shadows that stretched and twisted across the walls.

As Bianca disappeared into her bedroom, the soft creak of the door echoed through the apartment, leaving Tyrese alone in the laundry room. He pushed himself off the washer, his movements fluid and relaxed, and began to wander back into the main living area. His eyes roamed over the space, taking in the scattered textbooks and notes that littered the coffee table, and the faint scent of vanilla wafting from the candles on the mantle.

The sound of rustling fabric drifted from Bianca's bedroom, followed by the soft thud of shoes hitting the floor. Tyrese's ears picked up the subtle noises, his attention drawn to the doorway.

Tyrese's feet made barely a sound as he padded across the floor, his eyes fixed intently on the doorway to Bianca's bedroom. The soft rustling of fabric and the occasional creak of the bedframe seemed to beckon him closer, drawing him in with an otherworldly allure. As he approached the doorway, the sounds grew louder, and he could sense Bianca's movement, her presence radiating from within like a warm flame.

Without thinking, Tyrese found himself leaning forward, his head inching toward the gap between the door and the frame. The sounds from within grew clearer, and he caught a glimpse of Bianca's bare shoulder, her skin glowing softly in the dim light.

As Bianca heard the creak of the floor in the hallway, she froze for a moment, her hands hovering over the buttons of her jeans. Her heart skipped a beat as she wondered if Tyrese was watching her, his eyes fixed on her through the narrow gap between the door and the frame. But instead of feeling uneasy or self-conscious, Bianca was surprised to find a thrill of arousal coursing through her veins. It was as if the possibility of being watched had awakened a part of her that she never knew existed.

She stood still for a moment, savoring the sensation, before slowly continuing to change.

As Bianca finished changing into a pair of worn jeans and a faded t-shirt, she called out to Tyrese, her voice husky from the dryness in her throat. "Hey, Tyrese, you can come get your jacket now!" The words hung in the air, and for a moment, there was no response. Bianca's heart skipped a beat as she wondered if Tyrese had been watching her, his eyes fixed on her through the narrow gap between the door and the frame.

But then, the creak of the floorboards outside her bedroom door broke the silence, and Tyrese's deep voice rumbled, "Alright, thanks!"

As Bianca swung open the bedroom door, her gaze met Tyrese's, and for a fleeting instant, they simply looked at each other. The air seemed to vibrate with tension, like the quiet hum of a harp string plucked by an invisible hand. Then, without breaking eye contact, Tyrese stepped forward, his movements fluid and deliberate, and Bianca felt a shiver run down her spine.

Her eyes dropped, drifting over the contours of his chest, the muscles defined beneath his dark skin. The sight sent a spark of awareness through her, a intimate consciousness that they were alone in her bedroom, the space around them shrinking to a tiny, suffocating point.

As Tyrese stepped forward, his eyes remained locked on Bianca's, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down her spine. His hand lifted, and for a moment, Bianca thought he was going to touch her, his fingers brushing against her skin. But instead, he reached for the jacket draped over her arm, his fingers closing around the worn denim.

Bianca felt a pang of disappointment, mixed with relief, as Tyrese's hand grazed the fabric, his knuckles inches from her breast. She released the jacket, letting it slide off her arm, and Tyrese took it from her, his movements economical and precise.

As Bianca relinquished the jacket, her fingers brushed against Tyrese's, sending a faint tremor through her fingertips. The spark of electricity lingered, even after their hands parted, leaving behind a tingling sensation that refused to dissipate. With his free hand, Tyrese pulled out his phone and held it out for her, the screen casting a pale glow on the surrounding skin. "Let me get your number, so you can text me when my shirt is done," he said, his voice low and smooth, like honey poured over rough stone.