Clean and fresh, Lillian shook out her hair with a towel, she picked up the spare clothes he’d offered her and realized something she should’ve suspected—these were his clothes. An oversized t-shirt and sweat shorts with a draw string.
Was it really okay to borrow this?
At least it had a draw string to tighten at the waist.
In the mirror, she tugged at the collar of his shirt and . . . she could smell him. That almost sweet scent—ash. Pressing her nose to the fabric, she inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering closed as she remembered last night, her body pressed to his, her nose pressed to his throat—Lillian’s dropped the collar of the shirt, feeling her face heat up.
Embarrassing.
She’d only had a few swigs of a mixed drink and wound up like that.
Swallowing, she
