“I need pants,” she demanded, tossing the empty bottle into the trash. “They are being laundered. The front desk assured me they would be back in time for us to leave in the morning,” Theon answered from the armchair he was sprawled in, his legs spread wide and a finger steepled along his temple as he studied her. Tessa crossed her arms. “And undergarments?” “Also being laundered. Luka neglected to order any extras when he purchased your clothing this afternoon.” “Are you serious?” “Mhmm,” he confirmed. “Come here.” “No,” she scoffed. “Tessa.” Her name was laced with warning. “Come here, and
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