I pushed the double doors open, kicked off my heels, and dropped my evening bag onto the edge of the mattress. I unbuttoned the back of my dress, letting the silk loosen around my shoulders as I pushed open the ensuite bathroom door to turn on the water.
I froze.
Raymond climbed out of the shower, completely bare. Water droplets glistened against his broad, muscular chest and ran down the chiseled ridges of his torso, catching the warm light of the bathroom. His dark, damp hair fell messily over his forehead, dripping down his neck. But what made my breath catch in my throat was the ink etched low on his right thigh—my name, penned in black, sharp lettering years ago when we were still together. He had never had it removed.
A sharp gasp tore from my throat as a wave of heat rushed to my
