Devastation in human form.
Not sculpted to be seen. Sculpted to unravel.
Her gaze wandered—no,devoured. Slowly. Shamelessly.
The sculpted lines of his chest, the defined ridges of his abs, the impossible cut of his V?—
And there.
Right there.
Her throat dried out.
The unmistakable shape beneath the cotton made her pulse stutter, and her core tightened with dangerous awareness.
Sweet merciful fuck.
She curled her fingers into the sheets, tethering herself.
Because if she didn’t?—
She’d crawl over him.
She’d give in.
And this wasn’t just heat anymore.
It was gravity.
And God help her, she liked falling.
A slow shift, a lazy stretch, and then his hand dragged through his messy hair, muscles rippling with the motion. His head tilted, like he felt her gaze before he opened his eyes.
Nope.
Arden yankedthe sheet over her head with a whispered curse. Abort mission.
If she stayed hidden long enough, she could pretend she hadn’t spent two full minutes thirsting over him like a woman starved.
But then?—
“Arden.”
His voice broke through the silence, rough with sleep, deep enough to leave a mark.
One word.
And she was wrecked.
His voice shouldn’t have had the power to knock the breath from her lungs.
But it did.
She stilled and tried to ignore the heat blooming beneath her skin, but the sound of him in the hush of morning unraveled her completely.
Slowly, cautiously, she peeled the sheet down enough to see him.
And there he was.
