“You’ll live. Turn around.” I do, tugging my nightdress back over my shoulders, and he drops to his knees on the floor before me. My eyes widen. Xaden Riorson is kneeling before me, his black hair at the perfect level for me to run my fingers through the thickness. It’s probably the only thing that’s soft about him. How many women have felt those strands between their fingers? Why the hell do I care?
