Olivia Martins 

He was standing there.

Shirtless. Barefoot. Silent.

“Caspian!” I gasped, arms shooting up to cover myself, the cold air prickling my skin.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. His gaze felt like a brand.

He leaned against the doorframe like he owned the damn world, and maybe he did. The mist had clung to him, beading on the dark hair of his chest, highlighting the ridges of muscle across his stomach. He looked like ...