By the time Rose returned to the bedroom, Adrian was sitting up, shirtless, sleep-rumpled and blinking against the morning light. His hair stuck up in uneven tufts, and the blanket had pooled low around his waist, revealing the hard lines of his torso, the subtle flex of his stomach when he stretched.
He looked unfairly beautiful in her bed.
And for the first time, she wasn’t panicking about it.
She stood in the doorway with her coffee, watching him quietly.
“Morning,” he said, voice gravelly with sleep. “You disappeared.”
“I needed air,” she said, and then added, “Jenny showed up.”
Adrian grimaced. “Should I be worried?”
Rose smiled faintly. “No. She brought coffee and opinions. The usual.”
He nodded slowly. His eyes searched her face like he was trying to read her temperature bef
