I froze.
My lips parted, but no sound emerged. How could I possibly explain what I was doing here? Barefoot, draped only in a sheer silk nightgown, I stood in Gosto’s room like some trembling offering. And worse my eyes shamelessly lingered on the freshly showered perfection of his body, water still clinging to sculpted muscle, each droplet sliding along the ridges I shouldn't want to trace.
“I found the passage,” I mumbled, clinging to a thread of dignity.
“I can see that.” He stepped closer, his gaze searing through me.
I swallowed hard. “I didn’t realize it led to your room…”
That was a lie. Part of me had hoped foolishly, sinfully that it would.
His jaw flexed. “Would you have preferred someone else at the other end? Leandro, maybe?”
“What?! No!” I gasped. “I just”
The passage
