Allyson's POV
Steam still clung to my skin as I emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my body. The moment I entered the bedroom, my breath caught. There on the bed lay a pair of boxer shorts and a clean shirt, arranged with careful precision. Michael had been here. While I was showering. The realization sent heat creeping up my neck. Had he lingered? Had he listened to the sound of water cascading over my body? The possibility made my pulse race with equal parts mortification and something far more dangerous.
I slipped into the shirt, and immediately his essence surrounded me. That intoxicating blend of cedar and something purely masculine that belonged only to Michael. The fabric carried his warmth, his presence, transporting me back to the club where everything had shifted between us. Where his eyes had burned into mine across that crowded dance floor. Where his touch had branded my skin with fire I still felt hours later.
