Zara’s POV
By morning, the power was still out, the storm was raging, and Caleb, well, was still infuriatingly hot.
I padded into the kitchen barefoot, my oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder. He was already there, leaning against the fridge, shirtless again, sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips, and his V line on display for me to lust after.
I didn’t say good morning.
I didn’t need to.
I opened the fridge, leaned in slowly, maybe too slowly, and made sure he got a full view of my barely-covered backside. I could feel his stare burning into me. And when I straightened up with a bottle of water, I felt his eyes on me. Dark! Heavy. Burning.
But when I turned, he was already walking away—headphones in, expression unreadable.
Still, I caught the flicker in his eyes befor
