"Why are you still on the phone?" Silas Thorne asked. He had just finished showering in the other room and brought her a warm glass of milk. Noticing Joyce Monroe's gaze was fixed outside the window, he walked to her side. When he looked out, he saw Jasper Quinn kneeling in the rain, clutching a bouquet of roses.
His brows furrowed slightly. "He actually found this place. He's like a persistent ghost."
"He really is," Joyce Monroe admitted, equally surprised.
"Joyce—" Silas Thorne suddenly reached out and hugged her from behind. He had also just showered, his body radiating warmth and a hint of dampness. His breath fanned across the side of her neck, the tip of his nose brushing against her cheek, his breath scorching.
"D-don't do that..." Joyce Monroe couldn't stand him nuzzling her. "It tickles—"
From Jasper Quinn's perspective,
the two of them were embracing, heads pressed close in a picture of tender, lingering affection.
