Meryl's POV
"Do you plan on cleaning up before we sleep?" Andre's voice cut through the silence. He spoke as if this was any ordinary evening, as if we were just another normal couple preparing for the night.
My body tensed. The grime from that disgusting motel still clung to my skin. Every terrible moment from today felt like it had soaked into my pores. The idea of walking into his private bathroom, of pretending this situation was remotely normal, made my throat close up.
"I'm okay like this," I whispered, keeping my gaze fixed on the wall.
His eyebrow lifted, but he said nothing more. He began changing into what he apparently considered sleepwear. Stormridge boxer shorts. Nothing else. His torso was exposed, all defined muscle and warm skin that seemed to glow in the bedroom light. I forced my eyes away. My treacherous body wanted to drink in the sight of him, as if it had forgotten the pain he'd caused me. I refused to let physical attraction cloud my judgment again.
