I snorted. ‘Glad to know you’re making rules now.’
Her laugh echoed like a low purr. ‘You’ll thank me later.’
We slipped out the back of the packhouse, leaving Aurora and Stan still tangled together like ivy. The air was crisp, pine-scented, alive with the hum of early evening. My fingers fumbled with the hem of my shirt before I stripped it off, folding everything neatly into the bag Darian held out.
He was watching me. Not lustful—not only lustful—but reverent, like every freckle and scar on my skin was something sacred. His gaze lingered, not hungry exactly, but steady. Protective.
And he didn’t give me the creeps looking at my t**s or butt. No. He looked at my hands. At my face. In my eyes.
Hot. He was hot even when he tried do be a gentleman. Could a gentleman be hot? Is this a
