Olivia's POV
The moment I slammed the bathroom door behind me, I moved with the energy of someone who genuinely believed Maxwell might kick down the door at any second.
My fingers fumbled with the buttons of my shirt, peeling the stained clothes off as quickly as possible. The binding beneath was slightly damp too, making my skin feel clammy and uncomfortable. But there was no time to adjust it properly - not when Maxwell was on the other side of that door, probably contemplating ways to make my life even more miserable.
I pulled on the clean shirt he'd given me, marveling at how soft it felt against my skin - probably Italian cotton.
The pants fit surprisingly well, though I had to tighten the belt to keep them from sliding down my hips. Maxwell's clothes were bigger than me, which made it even better. The bigger the better. But my mind had to betray me by trailing off to that hot…
Nope. Not thinking about those abs. Or that chest. Or those shoulders. Or…
