Coming out of the bathroom, Mirabella didn’t spare Hunter a single glance. The steam still clung to her skin, her hair damp and soft, falling in waves around her face. She could feel his gaze on her even without looking — that steady, possessive stare that seemed to crawl along her skin.
Of course, he still wore that smug look she had come to hate. Or maybe she didn’t hate it — maybe it was the way it made her pulse race that she truly hated.
She moved straight to her closet, yanking it open and pulling out a clean pair of clothes: a white sleeveless top and pale blue shorts. She didn’t bother saying a word to him. With her bundle of clothes in hand, she disappeared back into the bathroom.
Behind her, Hunter leaned lazily against the headboard, his eyes following her every move. His mou
