Lilian had no plans to open that door. Not after what happened in the rain. But the knocking just wouldn't stop—over and over, a relentless drumming that crawled under her skin. She couldn't focus on anything, not with that sound echoing through the apartment. Eventually, with a frustrated sigh, she went to open it.
The moment she cracked it open, Morrison was there, standing tall with a towel slung low around his waist and a steaming cup in his hands.
"I made this just now," he said, holding it out as though it could solve everything. "Hot cocoa. Drink it while it's warm—it'll keep the chill away, stop you from catching a cold."
Lilian's gaze fell on the cup. It was made perfectly—sweetened with brown sugar, simmered to the right thickness, rich enough to comfort anyone else. But to her, it wasn't touching. Not after he had dragged her into the rain and kissed her without asking, not after he'd forced her into a situation she didn't want.
So, she didn't even try to be polite.
