Luther's POV. 14.
The sound of my wheels grinding to a halt on the marble floor echoed in the silence. She’d stopped me. Aurora. My Aurora. God, even thinking the word “my” felt like a dangerous indulgence.
"If you can't spill what's eating you, why'd you stop me?" My voice came out harsher than intended, a gravelly growl born of built-up frustration and carefully constructed distance.
I continued without giving her a chance to answer.
"And don't even think about offering to help me bathe. I can damn well manage myself." Each word was laced with ice, a warning shot across her bow.
I knew. I knew what she wanted. The way she fidgeted in the doorway, the almost faint tremor in her voice... It all screamed of a desire she couldn't quite express, a hunger for something she knew was f
