Coming out of the bathroom, Mirabella didn’t spare Hunter a single glance. The steam still clung to her skin, her hair damp and soft, falling in waves around her face. She could feel his gaze on her even without looking — that steady, possessive stare that seemed to crawl along her skin.

Of course, he still wore that smug look she had come to hate. Or maybe she didn’t hate it — maybe it was the way it made her pulse race that she truly hated.

She moved straight to her closet, yanking ...