ZAC
As I step into my suite, the sweet smell of honey and cinnamon swirls around me. Isla’s scent is getting stronger here, and it only makes my heart flutter faster.
I push the door shut and click the lock- there is no way in f*****g hell I am going to risk any interruptions tonight. I walk over to the kitchenette, open the oven door and place the pizza box inside to help keep it warm for later.
“Isla?” I call out.
No response.
I head down the hall and as I reach the door to my room, I can hear the shower running. I am slightly surprised but genuinely elated that she didn’t retreat to the guest bathroom. Maybe she sees this as her room now too? I really hope she does.
The last few days have been a s**t-nado, but Isla seems to be quickly embracing our bond. I guess trauma can bring p
