Chapter 1
Arden
I was lathered in the shower when I heard it – a loud thud from somewhere outside the bathroom. With a gasp, I whirled toward the sound.
My hair was foaming with shampoo, and the shower was still running. From behind the shower's frosted glass, I stared at the hazy image of the locked bathroom door.
When nothing happened, I tried to laugh. Obviously, I was only hearing things, which made total sense considering that the events of today would've drivenanyoneinsane.
See, I wasn't in any danger.I was merely losing my mind.
It was such a cheery thought – not that I had time to enjoy it. Way too soon, I heard the sound again. A split second later, the bathroom door flew open and banged into the nearby wall, where for some stupid reason it stuck like a magnet to metal.
Well, that was weird.
But that was hardly the worst of it.
In the now-open doorway stood the shadowed silhouette of a man. He was tall with broad shoulders and narrow hips. He wore faded jeans and a plain white T-shirt.
The jeans were tattered, and the shirt was soaking wet – so wet that it clung to him like a second skin, accenting muscles so fine, I might've marveled at their perfection, if only I didn't feel like screaming.
But Ididn'tscream.And why?
It was because this wasn't my bathroom.Not officially.And there was thetiniestchance that I might be trespassing.
Still, my heart hammered as I crossed my arms over my naked breasts and blurted out, "Who areyou?"
Sounding a lot calmer than I might've expected, he replied, "I might ask the same."
And yet, he didn't ask – not directly, anyway. Instead, he strode to the bathroom sink and stopped when he reached it. Turning once again to face me, he leaned his ass against the ancient countertop and crossed his muscular arms, all casual-like, as if hehadn'tjust busted through the bathroom door.
I should've been terrified. And part of me was. But I'd been on edge for so many hours now that I'd grown nearly numb to its effects. "The house…" I stammered. "I thought it was empty."
In a voice tinged with amusement, he replied, "Obviously."
I stiffened.Well, at least someone was jolly.
I sure as heck wasn't.
And yet, I hadonething to be thankful for. My thin, white towel was draped at hip level over the dented towel bar that spanned the narrow shower door. This meant that my pelvis was hidden from his prying eyes – assuming theywereprying.
I couldn't be certain either way. Between the steam and the frosted glass, I was having a hard time making out the guy's face.
Sure, I saw a mess of thick dark hair, a strong jaw, and all the standard features where they belonged. But as far as the specifics, it was impossible to say.
On the upside, this meant that he couldn’t seemeclearly either.
Still, he could surely tell that I was naked – not that he needed eyes forthat. It was, after all,customary to remove one's clothes before stepping into the shower.
Clothes?
My stomach sank.Oh, no.
My fresh clothes. I'd laid them out near the sink with my undergarments on top – black panties and a lacy black bra. And myotherclothes – the ones I'd just taken off – were lying scattered across the faded wooden floor.
I scanned the familiar worn surface, and felt myself frown. Unless I was mistaken, that bit of pink fabric near the guy's left boot was the bra I'd removed just ten minutes ago.
Well, this was just terrific.
