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Not only had Greta spent the entire night with him, but she had submitted to his care and woke up in his arms again. It was the longest amount of time she’d spent with one person, in one uninterrupted block of time. Cutter was striking her shields down faster than a toddler faced with a stack of wooden blocks.
Around noon, he tugged her out of bed, wrapped her in a bathrobe and settled her on one of the two chairs around his kitchen table. She peeled the price tag off the bare wooden slab and tossed it in the trash can. Besides a few appliances, there was nothing else. No tablecloth or curtains. Not a scrap of cloth that wasn’t utilitarian. No vases, candles, or decorations. Granted, he’d only recently moved in, but the simple, straight-shooting masculinity of the place was pure Cutte
