I find a new toothbrush thoughtfully left on the countertop and use it, heading to the shower, vigorously scrubbing myself until I’m clean. Stepping out, I wrap myself in a thick bathrobe that smells of him. It’s huge and floats on me. I inhale a deep breath and head back out to the bedroom drying my wet hair with a towel. Just as I lift a hairbrush from the dressing table, the door opens and Damien walks in. Seeing him brings back all my memories from the previous night. My mouth curls as anger and hurt rush through me.

He pauses at the door, eyeing me from top to toe. He must have just finished a work out because he’s wearing only gym pants that rest low on his lean hips. I can see the sweat gleaming on his broad chest and smooth abs. He looks sexy and the corner of his lower lip quirks up as he catches me staring at him.

I scowl at that annoying smirk, hating how vulnerable I am to him. Before I know what I’m doing, I hurl the hairbrush at him. He ducks and it hits the wall behind him with a loud thwack.

“What in the...” he starts to say, taking a step towards me, but I cut him off and fling a bottle of perfume at him I find on the dressing table. It barely misses his shoulder and the bottle falls somewhere behind him as the glass shatters and the scent of his perfume permeates the air.

“What is wrong with you?” Reaching me, he grabs the next bottle from my hand.

“I hate you,” I pant out, hot, angry breaths escaping my mouth.

He laughs. The bloody scoundrel!

“I think you already told me that last night,” he says.

“This is your house, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“So why am I here?”

“Should I have left you on the dance floor when you fainted?” He raises a haughty eyebrow at me.

I stomp my foot and my hands ball into fists. “I do hate it when you mock me like this.”

He splays his hands out. “What do you think I should have done then?”

“Maybe you should have let Jonathan take me home,” I shoot back.

“Hell would have frozen over before I’d have let that happen,” he retorts, taking an angry step closer to me.

God! He makes me want to pull my hair out. “You don’t want me, you don’t like me with someone else. You ruin a perfectly fine night by behaving medieval and you almost have a brawl with Jonathan on the dance floor. What do you want? Because I don’t understand anymore.”

He stares at me with his arms folded. “You. I want you. You’ve gotten under my skin, Aaliya.”