The hallway was silent, but the air still felt heavy from the studio session. I followed the scent of his cologne and that led straight to his master bedroom. He had sneaked off his studio to this place?
I didn't knock. I pushed the door open and stepped into the dim light of his private space.
The sound of the shower was a steady roar coming from the bathroom. On the floor, his clothes were a messy pile—the shirt, the pants, all discarded in a rush. I smiled, the fabric of my own open shirt fluttering against my bare skin.
I walked to the bathroom door. It was slightly ajar. Steam was already curling into the air, carrying the smell of soap. I stepped inside, my feet silent on the cold tile.
Vaughan was behind the glass, his side to me, partially backing me. The water was running cold
