I Fell for the Man Who Ruined Me, Then He Forgot He Ever Loved Me Back novel Chapter 73

Sienna's heart skipped a beat.

She forced a smile. "Does it? I don't think they sound alike at all."

"They totally do," Mindy insisted confidently. "But you wouldn't know, you've never heard him."

"I... saw him on the news."

"That's nothing compared to hearing him in person. The pitch is the same, but the tone is worlds apart." If their arrogant, untouchable CEO ever spoke in that humble, desperate tone, hell would have to freeze over first.

"Maybe the phone distorted his voice a bit."

"Good point, that could be it..."

-

Sienna had promised Jorrod she would come home a little earlier.

But when it was time to clock out, panic suddenly began to set in.

Spending an entire day without Jorrod Vaughn made her feel like her life had returned to normal.

Going back to the apartment meant facing that half-stranger she had no idea how to be alone with.

Especially after that phone call at noon.

And that unfinished sentence.

Why did he have to go and say he needed her?

Sienna braced herself, taking a deep breath before unlocking the front door.

She didn't get the eager puppy running to the door to greet her like she expected. The apartment really was quiet, though the air was filled with the warm, savory aroma of a home-cooked meal.

She instinctively looked toward the bathroom.

The frosted glass glowed with a warm, amber light, the air inside thick with steam.

He was taking a shower.

Sienna averted her gaze, intending to walk quickly past, when a rush of cool, damp air hit her face as the door clicked open.

Jorrod was wearing the cheap white bathrobe she had blindly grabbed for him at the supermarket. It was entirely plain, without a single pattern.

It hung loosely on his frame, the belt tied casually around his lean, muscular waist. With his tall, broad-shouldered silhouette, he somehow made a twenty-dollar grocery store robe look like bespoke couture.

His hair was still wet. Droplets of water traced the sharp lines of his face, sliding down the long column of his neck and disappearing into the V-neck of the white fabric.

The faint definition of his abs peeked through, radiating an unspeakable, magnetic sex appeal.

Jorrod took a step, subtly blocking her path.

The sheer dominance of his presence was overwhelming.

This version of Jorrod was too foreign, too intimate.

So intimate that Sienna's immediate instinct was to bolt.

A hand clamped around her wrist. Instead of the damp heat she expected from someone fresh out of the shower, his skin was surprisingly cool.

"I made dinner. I was waiting for you so we could eat together."

"Okay... you should go dry your hair and change first."

The fading amber light of dusk spilled through the balcony's glass doors, casting a gentle glow over the edges of their clothes.

In that split second, Sienna felt completely submerged by an overwhelming, indescribable wave of emotion.

But she quickly found her voice. "Taking a cold shower will make you sick. If you get sick, who's going to take care of you? It's just going to be a bur—"

The word caught in her throat.

Sienna suddenly realized she couldn't say the word 'burden' anymore. She had no right to. He wasn't being a burden at all, and she couldn't bear to see the desolate look that would inevitably cross his face if she said it.

"Don't do this anymore." Her voice dropped to a near whisper. Sienna was undeniably terrified, but she didn't even know what she was terrified of.

"I won't get sick."

The deep rumble of his voice drifted over her head, incredibly soft.

Sienna looked up, her gaze colliding with a pair of eyes as dark and endless as a midnight lake. For a moment, she was completely lost in them.

She stood there, frozen, as Jorrod took her hand, leaning in slightly to press her palm against his cheek, then his jaw.

"Feel for yourself. I'm not sick, and I'm not hot."

The sharp angles of his face rested perfectly in her hand.

Sienna was touching him, completely guided by his movements.

Her palm felt like it was burning up, contrasting sharply with the cool skin beneath it.

Yet, inexplicably, she felt like she was the one being scorched. The corner of his lips brushing her fingertips burned; the large hand covering hers burned; and that heavy, predatory gaze pinning her down was roasting her from the inside out, making her wish she could just vaporize into smoke and float away.