The Sinclair Penthouse smelled like cedar, expensive linen, and finally, peace.
Aria kicked off her fuzzy slides the moment the elevator doors slid shut.
"We're home," she groaned, padding barefoot onto the plush rug, "at last."
Damien followed her, loosening his tie. He picked up her slides without a word, placing them neatly by the console table.
"We still have a list to finish," he reminded her.
"Yes, yes, I know," Aria muttered, heading for the bedroom. "But I need a shower. I feel like I have hospital air stuck to my skin."
"We can save time," Damien suggested, catching up to her. His voice dropped to a low, persuasive rumble. "Shower together. It's more efficient."
Aria looked back at him. He looked innocent, but his eyes were dark with intent.
"Efficient," she deadpanned. "Is that what we're calling it? You just want to see me naked."
