Author's POV After her shower, Elena stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a bathrobe that very clearly did not belong to her.

The hem dragged against the floor with every step, and the sleeves swallowed her hands completely. The fabric was structured, masculine, and faintly scented with Damien’s cologne—clean, cool, and unmistakably his.

She paused in the center of the guest room and looked down at herself.

This was ridiculous.

Only now, in the quiet stillness of the night, did she ...