Dorian stood frozen, the soft thud of the door echoing in his ears as Eva shut it firmly in his face. He let out a shuddering breath, trying to regain his composure. But his mind kept drifting back to those few seconds before she closed the door - the vision of her tousled hair, the gentle swell of her lips, her robe clinging enticingly to the curves of her body.
He had come here determined to talk to her. To spare her from being swept into the vortex of his feud with Oscar. But then she had opened that door, and every coherent intention evaporated from his mind like smoke.
After she spoke, he was gripped by an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her, to pull her close and lose himself in her intoxicating warmth - the rich auburn cascade of her hair, his gaze was drawn to the robe
