The next morning,

I woke up to the scent of roasted coffee and smoked bacon.

The sheets were tangled between my legs, warm from the night before—no, not just warmth but Heat. The kind that still lingered on my skin like fingerprints.

Shane wasn’t beside me. But the evidence of him was everywhere. The bruises, the scratch marks on my thighs and the deep ache between them.

I stretched with a low sigh, draping one of his black silk shirts over my body, padding barefoot across the cold ...