Sloane’s POV
I woke up to the sound of water running.
It was a low, steady sound coming from the tiny bathroom. I didn’t move. I just stayed under the heavy, scratchy blanket, feeling the soreness in my muscles and the dull, steady pulse in my shoulder. For the first time in ten years, the first thing I felt wasn’t a shot of adrenaline or the need to check the locks. It was just the heat of the spot on the bed where Roman had been sleeping.
The bathroom door opened, and a cloud of steam rolled out into the small room. Roman walked out, a white towel wrapped around his waist.
I stopped breathing for a second. He was covered in water droplets, his skin was looking like polished bronze in the early light coming through the blinds. But it was the scars that caught me. There were jagged lin
