Damn him.
I buried my face in the collar for a split second before cursing myself.
It wasn't because I wanted to—I needed it.
It was cold, that's all.
Just practical.
Just practical.
I shoved my arms through the sleeves, and the jacket hung off me, too big but warm—too warm.
And then, before I could second-guess myself, I climbed back onto the sink, swung a leg through the window, and jumped.
The world tilted for half a second—air rushing past me—before I landed hard, knees buckling but holding.
Yes.
I survived.
But then…
Shit.
What was that chill crawling up my spine?
I froze, slowly lifting my head.
And there he was.
Tristan.
Standing a few feet away—still, silent, watching me like a predator who had already decided I was his.
