When Wyatt Hawthorne came out of the bathroom, he saw Faye Vaughn wrapped in a bath towel, trying to sneak away.
He scoffed. "Planning to run out of the hotel like this and give everyone a show?"
Faye Vaughn hooked a finger under the edge of her towel, giving it a little tug. "Afraid to let anyone else have a look, Mr. Hawthorne?"
She suddenly loosened her towel and gasped. "Oops, it's about to fall..."
It was a clumsy act. Wyatt Hawthorne eyed her, one eyebrow raised. "Then let it fall. I'd like to see."
Faye Vaughn scoffed, pressing the precariously loose towel firmly against herself. "You may want a look, but I'm not giving you one."
Wyatt Hawthorne's gaze darkened, slowly sweeping over her figure.
Her skin was fair, her collarbones exquisite. Beneath the towel, her long, straight, pale legs were particularly striking.
He knew her allure went far beyond that.
After sleeping with her for three years, he knew better than anyone.
