Dahlia’s POV
I stood at the vanity, towel-drying my hair, when a knock echoed from the door. I didn’t need to guess who it was—somehow, I just knew. I ran my fingers through my damp hair, trying to tame the wild curls into something more presentable, then swung the door open.
Their scents hit me instantly, wrapping around me like a heady perfume, warm and intoxicating. No matter how many times I was near them, it never dulled the effect they had on me. That instant jolt of electricity, the way my body ignited with want the moment I laid eyes on their impossibly handsome faces, chiseled physiques, and the smoldering intensity that burned in their gazes—it always left me breathless. The hunger in their eyes was unmistakable, and it sent a wave of heat surging through my core.
Low, apprec
