IVAN'S POV
I counted to three in my mind.
One.
Two.
Three.
A soft breath left my lips as I darted my eyes around the threshold, trying to gather my wits and my sense of pride.
Maeve was framing the doorway.
From what I could see of her frame, she was wearing a loose white linen shirt, half-tucked into high-waisted shorts, the sleeves rolled up.
At least it wasn't that goddess-forsaken nightdress that had nearly made me devour her.
Not that this was any better—if anything, the natural effortlessness was the appeal. She wasn't even trying to impress anyone, yet she had me by the balls.
I swallowed the thickness in my throat, making it a point not to stare at her curves.
By the time I forced my gaze back up to hers, a crinkle of a scowl was already forming, though her eyes remained blank, giving nothing away.
