CHAPTER 121
Lucian took one last steadying breath, his fingers fumbling slightly as he held the door handle of the master suite, his chest felt like it was being held together by nothing but sheer, agonizing willpower.
He turned the handle and re-entered the bedroom. The air was still thick with the ghost of their intimacy, the scent of her arousal and his blood mingling in a way that made his stomach flip.
Isabella was still there, sitting on the edge of the mattress. She had pulled the silk shirt he'd given her back over her shoulder, but she hadn't moved an inch.
Her eyes tracked him the moment he stepped into the light. She noticed the new shirt—identical to the last, but clean, crisp, and devoid of the deathly red stain
She didn't mention it. She didn't ask why he had changed. "You're back," she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper in the vast room.
