GLORIA

The closer I got, the heavier my legs felt.

Each step dragged, my heels clicking too loud against the pavement. By the time I reached his door, my hand was trembling so badly.

I raised my fist, hesitating inches from the wood. My chest heaved, my pulse hammering in my ears.

What the hell are you doing, Gloria?

Before I could knock, the door swung open.

He stood there. Shirtless, barefoot. That cocky, infuriating grin carved across his face.

“Well, well,” he drawled, leaning ...