“I beg your pardon?” Alizeh looked up at him in horror. “My undergarments?” “Surely you possess a pair of eyes,” he said, staring intently at her face. “You are practically naked.” “How dare you.” In a fluid motion Cyrus draped his coat over her shoulders, surprising her so completely she’d no chance to protest before she was rendered powerless by relief. The lingering warmth of the wool garment was crossed with the heady, masculine scent of its owner, but Alizeh could ignore this; the heavy coat enveloped every inch of her folded, huddled body, its silk-lining caressing, then soothing, her
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