I had barely unpacked the first box when he appeared.

“Need some help with that?” His voice was calm, low, confident—like he already knew I’d say yes.

I froze, clutching the corner of the cardboard box like it was a shield. I’d just moved into this stupid apartment, and everything still smelled like new paint and cardboard. My chest fluttered, and my cheeks burned. “Uh… y-yes, please,” I stammered, blinking up at him.

He stepped closer, broad shoulders filling the doorway, hands brushing mine as he lifted the box. My stomach lurched. He smelled… delicious. Not perfume, not like anything I knew—just him. Clean, warm, masculine. My knees went weak,...