Brace yourself.
Arden peekedout of the bathroom, feigning nonchalance as her pulse thrummed in her veins.
Dangerous. That was the only word for the way he watched her—half-reclined, shirtless, breath-stealing.
“I’m gonna grab a shower…”
A pause.
“Before I head home.”
Gideon stilled.
The only sound was the steady rush of water, the steam curling around her like a slow-building storm.
Her words were casual. Innocent.
But her eyes?
Not even close.
The was hunger there, dark and savage. A dare wrapped in heat, challenging him to take what had been his since the moment she looked at him like this.
Slowly, he straightened, his eyes locked on hers, reading every unspoken challenge, every deliberate flicker of heat.
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
And God help her—so did he.
He repeated the words, slow, deliberate, tasting them.
“A shower.”
Arden arched a brow, pretending not to notice the way his voice had dropped an octave, rich and deep enough to slip beneath her skin.
“Yes, Gideon. A shower. Soap, water, the works.”
His lips curved into a slow smile—the kind that sent heat spiraling straight to her core, threatening to rewire her completely.
“You. In my shower.” His gaze dragged over her, lazy, thorough, knowing. “You’re making it hard for me to want to leave this room.”
Her cheeks warmed, but she didn’t flinch. Didn’t back down.
Instead, she tilted her head, letting the moment stretch, letting him watch her.
Then, with a smirk—sharp, knowing, perfectly timed
“Join me?”
His breath hitched.
For a single, charged second, Gideon Blackwell—the man who never hesitated, never faltered, never lost control—didn’t move.
Then?
Then, he snapped.
