Moments later, the bathroom door opened, and Klaus emerged, a towel in hand as he ran it through his damp hair. A loose bathrobe clung to his frame, barely concealing the sculpted lines of his body. Droplets of water trailed down his neck, disappearing beneath the fabric, and the faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, teasing Mira's senses. Mira peeked out from beneath the bedding, her gaze drinking him in. He had his back to her, his muscles flexing slightly as he dried himself off with a nonchalance that only fueled her frustration. How could someone look so effortlessly perfect and yet be so infuriating?
When he finally turned to face her, his expression unreadable, he asked, "When am I getting out of here?"
Mira's frown was instant, her heart sinking at the stark contrast between the man who had just been wrapped around her and the one now speaking so distantly. The warmth of their earlier intimacy felt like a distant memory, replaced by the cold edge in his voice.
