“What are you doing here?” I ask with more curiosity than malice.
“You weren’t at training this morning.” Daegan leans a broad shoulder against the wall beside my door, looking as casual as ever.
He side-eyes me and does a double take.
His eyes travel from my wet hair to my wet bag to my wet gown all in a quick flash.
My arms are still covering my chest, at least.
“I was avoiding… people,” I say softly.
“Me?”
“No. Not you.” I could be crazy, but I think a small flash of relief crosses his face.
“Who, then?” He folds his arms. I can tell he’s not going to give this up. For whatever reason.
“Adrian,” I admit quietly.
He takes a deep breath, becoming visibly… angry. “Did he hurt you?”
“What? No,” I say, returning his gaze. “Nothing like that.”
He seems to relax. A little.
“He upset you then?”
“No…”
He stares at me, waiting for me to share more.
“Look, I don’t want to talk about it, okay? I’m cold and I’m wet and I want to change.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you,” I huff, holding my hands out at my sides in a sarcastic gesture.
Daegan’s eyes flick down, linger for a moment, and then return to my face. “No problem.”
Oops.
My cheeks flush as I hurry inside, not looking back as I shut the door behind me.
Maybe my dress has dried enough since I walked up here. Maybe he didn’t see everything.
I look down.
Nope.
I check my reflection in the mirror just to be sure.
Even worse.
I stand against the wall, my body suddenly warm again, and curse myself. Because I don’t hate that he looked at me.
As I pull the wet dress down my torso, I move slowly, looking in the mirror. I look at myself and think what Daegan would think if he saw the same image. Would he take his time? Would he be rough?
The image of his heated gaze landing on my nipples burns through my mind, and suddenly I’m throbbing between my legs, wondering what his mouth would feel like on mine. What it would feel like if it traveled lower…
