The steam from the bath still clung to the air in the master suite, a ghostly vapor that softened the sharp edges of the mahogany furniture and the heavy black silk drapes. Eloise stepped out of the walk-in closet, her skin still humming from the heat of the water and the lingering phantom touch of Luciano's hands.
She slipped into a pair of soft black leggings and a simple spaghetti-strap top. It wasn't fashionable, it wasn't elegant, but it felt… safe. Comforting. Something normal in a world that had stopped being normal the moment she stepped into Luciano Solis De La Vega's orbit.
Her mind traitorous thing that it was, returned to the bathroom—to the moment Luciano had looked at her with that terrifying, singular focus and told her to ask the real question.
