Chapter 7

I Kat f someone had told me this morning that I’d be ending the day wearing Dante Moretti’s shirt, I’d have told them they were high. If they’d told me I would have chosen to keep the damn thing on after he forced me to wear it, then I’d have told them they were batshit crazy. Staring at the ceiling, I press my cheek against the soft collar and remember slipping it on a short while earlier, and how easily the expensive material glided over my skin. A shiver runs along my spine as I recall the cotton still infused with his body heat and how the warmth and the scent of him blanketing my bare skin sent unexpected shivers of comfort and pleasure rippling through my body. It smells of him still, of fresh air and cool mint and his cologne. I can’t believe he took my favorite t-shirt and tossed it into the trash. Forced me to take it off in front of him too. It should have been embarrassing, so why did it feel empowering? I saw the way his eyes drifted over my body and the steely look on his