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He has all the contraptions I have in mine plus more. My eyes can’t catalogue it all quickly enough, so I force myself to slow down and start with the sink.

Clutter doesn’t exist in his spaces, and the bathroom is no exception.

His electric toothbrush, clippers and soap dispenser are the only things on the vanity.

But when I try to open the smart mirror to reveal his medicine cabinet, a low beeping sound stops me at the same time a numerical keypad appears on the bottom right corner of the mirror.

“Who has a passcode for their medicine cabinet?” I whisper, incredulous.

Annoyed by the setback but not put off, I turn and open his walk-in shower door.

It’s still steamy from his morning shower and the squeegee hanging on a hook outside the door makes me smirk.

“Clean freak.”

The oxblood tile is a nice change from all the neutrals in his closet and the brass finishings have my eyebrows inching up my forehead.

“This is nice,” I murmur before scoping out the products on his shower niche.

All the labels are in French. Except one bottle. It’s ruby red and looks familiar.

Because it’s the same strawberry-scented body wash I use every day.

“Why does he have this?”

The question barely touches my lips when a familiar hold clamps around my biceps, dragging me away from the shower.

My feet flail against nothing as a hard wall of pectoral muscles collides with my back.

“Ms. Rose, what the hell are you doing in my room?”

Adonis really should look into voice acting. The way his heavy timbre wraps around words is spellbinding even when what he’s saying is infuriating.

In front of us, the shower door closes with a soft rattle, obstructing my view while a new onslaught of sensations take over.

“Ms. Rose…”

“I told you I prefer Delilah.”

Adonis doesn’t respond, but his vise like grip on me does. I won’t be surprised if his fingers leave indentations when he finally lets me go.

Without warning, he turns us until we’re facing the mirror and a shocked sound squeaks out of me.

His heart is pounding so hard, I can feel it in my chest. His breath fanning over my ear is worse, raising a trail of bumps down my neck.

Wait. What were we talking about?

Oh, right.

What the hellamI doing in his room?

Well, for starters, I wanted to get caught.

Call me reckless, but I love the lapse in composure that makes him snap and take hold of me when I throw his world into chaos.

It sends my heart racing knowing I can make someone that mad and there’s nothing they can do about it.

He’s the first person I’ve ever felt safe pushing to their limit and the first person who made me feel safe enough to keep going.