Lorraine's POV
I finished tugging on the shirt and sweatpants Kieran had given me, the fabric soft against my skin. The shirt hung off my frame, a little too large, brushing the middle of my thighs. I grabbed the towel and rubbed it through my wet hair, trying to soak up the dampness.
When I finally opened the bathroom door and stepped out, Kieran was standing by the window. He had changed too, black trousers, a fitted casual shirt, and a jacket that hugged his frame perfectly. His long black hair was tied neatly into a ponytail, a few loose strands framing his face. And the face itself?
Godses help me.
He looked too good. Too refined. Too powerful. Sometimes I wondered how the universe could sculpt someone like him and then toss him into my path like a weapon I could never wield safely.
"This shirt's a little too big," I said, tugging at the fabric awkwardly.
