Her hands trembled so badly she could barely fix the torn strap of her dress. Her fingers fumbled uselessly at the fabric, her breath shaky and uneven. But before she could even get herself together, she felt it—his eyes. Heavy, sharp, cutting straight through her.
He stood in the doorway, broad shoulders blocking out the light behind him. His arms were crossed tightly across his chest, every muscle tense, his jaw locked in stone. His gaze was like knives, piercing her soul, stripping her of every excuse before she could even try.
“Don’t bother,” he said finally, his voice low, deep, and dangerous. The kind of voice that made the hairs on her neck rise. “I already know.”
Her throat went dry instantly. Her lips parted, a small gasp escaping, but no words followed. She wanted to explain,
