Six

I left Arabella’s door without looking back. If I looked back, I’d stay. And I couldn’t afford that—not right now.

I’d seen the way her eyes lit up when she opened the door. I saw the need in her eyes; I felt it in the way she gasped when I touched her.

She couldn’t even meet my gaze, cheeks warm, fingers tugging at the edges of her robe. Cute. Dangerous.

That damn robe. It barely covered anything, and it didn’t help that I had put to memory what she looked like underneath it.

But I did what I came to do. Gave her the book. Told her to read...