I froze.

My lips parted, but no sound emerged. How could I possibly explain what I was doing here? Barefoot, draped only in a sheer silk nightgown, I stood in Gosto’s room like some trembling offering. And worse my eyes shamelessly lingered on the freshly showered perfection of his body, water still clinging to sculpted muscle, each droplet sliding along the ridges I shouldn't want to trace.

“I found the passage,” I mumbled, clinging to a thread of dignity.

“I can see that.” He ...