Liam stepped out of the elevator and paused, taking in the penthouse. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling glass, spilling across the polished floors and perfectly arranged furniture. Everything was immaculate. The bed was made, sheets crisp and unwrinkled, pillows fluffed like nothing had happened. Yesterday's chaos—sweat, tangled sheets, the remnants of passion—had vanished completely. Lana had cleaned everything. The thought made his lips curve into a slow, knowing grin. She always knew how to leave things perfect.
Then he heard it. A soft, steady sound of running water. His grin widened. She was in the shower. Exactly where he wanted her.
