Yvette finished up in the shower, and then dried herself off with a towel. She then slipped into the bathrobe, that Bartholomew had provided for her. It was warm, and soft, and permeating with his intoxicating sent. While she caressed the sleeves against her skin, she closed her eyes. Yvette enveloped herself in the luxuriously comforting fabric, as well as it's enticing aroma.
She could not deny her feelings of elation, after making love to him. Was her feelings for him real? Or was it just a way to shield herself from the pain of Fredrick's betrayal? Whatever it was, she was hardly complaining. If this was living in the state of denial, then this was one state in which she would gladly reside.
It was all a dream come true, as she had a crush on him for years. She not only admired
