Page 38

Because there she is.

Belinda stands in the doorway wearing my shirt. And a pair of my boxers.

Nothing else.

Chapter 4

Damian

My white button-down hangs almost to her knees, but she's rolled the sleeves. My black boxer briefs cling to her hips beneath it.

Her wet hair hangs loose. Her face is scrubbed clean. And she's barefoot.

She looks—fuck.

She looks domestic.

Wholesome.

Sweet as sin.

The thoughts hit so hard I hate them immediately. Because I should not be thinking about this woman like that.

And yet…

Belinda looks like she belongs in my clothes. In my house. In my life. Period.

Mine.

No.

Her fingers tug self-consciously at the hem.

“I really am sorry, I borrowed these without permission. I-I guess I wasn’t thinking about it when I ran.”

“You mean when you ran butt-naked across the yard and vaulted into my arms? Sure, That's okay.”

My voice comes out rough. She bites her lower lip. And her velvet brown eyes lift to mine.

“Besides, they look better on you.”

Pink creeps into her cheeks.

“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Leeds?”

“No.”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“I’m not.”

She laughs. I stare at her.

I shouldn't want this.

I don't have time for this.

I don't have the right to pull an innocent woman into the final stages of whatever the hell I'm becoming.