Note: This chapter contains erotic content.

[Elena’s POV]

His suit jacket was gone, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. His dark brown hair was slightly disheveled, and his impossibly cold, impossibly hot eyes, locked onto me immediately.

He looked tired and...dangerous.

And absolutely, devastatingly beautiful.

"You're awake," he said, his voice low and rough.

"I—I thought you weren't coming back tonight," I stammered.

I could smell the whiskey on him as he leaned down to kiss - or rather, nibble - my shoulder.

My pulse skipped.

"Finished the painting?" he asked as he completely slipped off my nightgown.

Honestly, if it weren't...