The dining area of the suite was flooded with morning light. It was peaceful, luxurious, and completely at odds with the carnage that had occurred in the bedroom hours prior.
Cassian was already there.
He was sitting at the table, looking like he'd just stepped out of a magazine. His hair was perfectly styled, his button-down shirt was crisp and white, and he was calmly reading something on his phone while sipping coffee. He didn't look like a man who had spent the night using ice cubes and BDSM toys. He looked like a god-tier CEO who had never had a stray thought in his life.
He looked up as I entered.
His gaze was slow. Deliberate. He started at my bare feet, moved up the baggy sweatpants, lingered on the oversized shirt that showed off my neck, and finally landed on my face. A small, infuriatingly satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Good morning," he said. His voice was smooth, pleasant, and devoid of any of the gravelly intensity of the night before.
