His reflection stared back—controlled, composed, but with a hint of something restless beneath.
Breakfast. He’d see her again. The thought alone sent a flicker through him—unwanted, sharp, and far too familiar.
He exhaled once, steadying himself, then turned away. Time to move.
He opened his door and looked across the hall. Her door was still closed.
He wasn’t sure why his eyes went there first—it wasn’t intentional. It just… happened. Like a reflex he couldn’t unlearn.
For a man who prided himself on control, that simple act irritated him more than it should have. Why the hell was he looking? Why was she still in his head?
She’d said it herself last night—it was just a good f**k. Nothing more.
So why did it feel anything but casual now?
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through
