ELIZABETH HERALD
The moment Blake shut the door behind him, my mind snapped awake.
I don't want to share you.
His words played on a loop in my head, each repetition sending a fresh wave of buzzing heat through me. I rolled onto my side, burying my face in the pillow, which smelled faintly of his cologne—spice and cedar and undeniably male.
My skin prickled, remembering the way his fingers had lingered on my collarbone, the way his gaze had darkened when he caught me in nothing but that towel.
I'd like to catch him in a towel. Wait. No. Wait. Yes.
I groaned, kicking at the sheets. I need to get the hell out of this mansion before Blake Remington could unravel me any further.
And yet.
I sat up, rubbing my temples. The room swayed slightly, the sedative still doing its damnedest to keep me sluggish. The pizza box sat on the nightstand, a single cold slice left inside. My stomach twisted, but not from hunger.
What the hell are you doing, Elizabeth?
