Chapter Forty-FiveWe lock eyes.
His fury morphs into confusion.
On my end, I realize he’s wearing only a towel, and blood rushes treacherously to my face.
This explains why he didn’t answer the door.
He was in the shower.
Soaping up. Scrubbing. Rinsing.
I swallow.
Loudly.
There isn’t an ounce of fat on his broad, utterly male body. Every muscle looks carved out of a solid block of ice—and I suddenly want to lick an icicle.
On his part, Nero seems just as stunned to see me, his blue-gray eyes traveling over me with disbelief and something else.
Something disturbingly heated.
That is, until his gaze falls on the folder I’m still holding.
He launches into motion.
In a blur, he extricates the folder from my hands, stuffs it into the safe, and locks it.
I back away, deeper into th
