She opened the door too fast, before the walls were rebuilt—before she had armored herself well enough to face him. And there he was, as if she had summoned him with the shake in her hands.
Zane Reyes.
Hair mussed.
Breath uneven.
Eyes dark with fury and something terrifyingly close to fear and desire.
He didn't step inside.
Not yet.
He just looked at her—really looked—and she felt stripped to the bone.
And in that moment, something cracked open between them—fragile, volatile, inevitable.
He stood there in her doorway like a man holding himself together with the weakest thread of restraint. She felt the shift instantly—something unstable, something frayed, something that had snapped when he walked away and kept snapping with each step he'd taken.
