The sound of running water cut off, leaving only the hush of the apartment and the thunder in Lilly's chest. She lay on her bed, naked against her sheets, the towel discarded on the floor. Every creak of the floorboards beyond the door made her pulse quicken, every second stretching unbearably.
The next thing she knows, the door opens. Mark stepped into the room, steam trailing behind him like a veil. A towel was slung low around his waist, droplets of water glistening against the hard lines of his chest. The sight alone made Lilly's breath catch. He was a man carved from stone and shadow, utterly sure of himself in her small, fragile space.
He set his phone on the nightstand. For a moment, his thumbs moved, typing something quick. Then he silenced the device, turned it face-down, and gave her his full attention.
The air seemed to thicken.
