Isla
I stepped directly into Zayne’s path, forcing him to stop. My heartbeat was still embarrassingly unstable from everything that happened last night, but I kept my spine straight.
“Zayne,” I said, blocking him with a hand on his chest. “What do you mean we’re heading to Michigan? Can you brief me exactly on what’s going on?”
He stared at me—hard.
That unreadable, heavy stare that always forces me to look away, but this time I don’t.
And that was when I realized why his eyes had dropped, why his expression changed just slightly.
My n*****s were poking right through his shirt.
Oh God.
His shirt on my body, oversized and soft and blatantly smelling like him, and of course that’s what decides to be visible.
I rolled my eyes at myself, at the entire situation, but he caught it. And
