CHAPTER THREE

As the sun sank more and farther behind the hills, the warm California night gently brushed on Ethan's kitchen windows, turning the glass gold.

The world outside appeared calm, easygoing, and peaceful—nothing like the tempest that was developing inside of me.

I shouldn't have gone back to his home. I could tell as soon as he opened the door. He was casual, barefoot, and had a black shirt rolled up to his elbows, as if he had been anticipating me and waiting for me.

"Hey," he murmured. My heart skipped a beat because of the velvet-dark warmth in his voice.

"You succeeded.”

Breathless, I stood in his doorway....