Page 72 of Devil in Her Details

Dagger shut his eyes.

There was a time in his life when he’d been on a course that would have led him straight to death. Then Maxen and Drake had found him and brought him into their fold. He’d suddenly gained a family. A purpose. Brothers who would take a dagger for him without flinching and without a second thought. He’d almost forgotten that feeling. The sense of not belonging anywhere. Of being lost.

It came back to him now all at once. Like a ship cut loose from the dock, Dagger was suddenly adrift. Which was fine. They all drifted out from time to time. But why did this time feel like he had no way back to shore?

Chapter Fifteen

That evening, Lilly pushed open the door to her chamber.

And stopped cold.

What . . . the . . . devil . . . was she looking at?

Dagger Fury stood with his back to her, freshly emerging from what was clearly a bath, his dark hair damp against the back of his neck. A towel—one tiny, little towel—was slung low around his waist. The rest of him was just . . . there. On display. An unreasonable quantity of back muscle catching the waning light though the only partly drawn curtains.

And the shape of his posterior was just perfect.

Lilly blinked.

And blinked.

He turned then, and she got the full picture. Good Lord. Was his body designed by John Nash? The man was architectural! All chiseled ridges and sculpted lines, narrowing into a sinful arrow beneath the towel like a map to somewhere forbidden. She was a professional. She had taken the measurements of men of all sizes and in all sorts of places. She was not a woman who blushed.

She was practically on fire.

“What are you doing?” Her voice came out as a screech, and she grimaced. Why had no one alerted her that he’d ordered a bath? She’d left the brothers to their own devices and hid in her study, becoming so engrossed in making a list of everything she’d like to retrieve from her shop tomorrow, she’d lost track of time. Luncheon and dinner had both been quiet affairs as well. She had sensed he wished time to sort out these thoughts, so she had given him the space he needed.

“You didn’t knock,” Dagger said, grinning, standing there utterly unbothered. His mood seemed to have adjusted back to normal.

His fingers hooked into the seam of his towel, drawing her gaze down to that area. She instantly wrenched it back up.

“It’s my chamber.”

“It’s my chamber, too.”

Blazes. “Then we should prepare another one for you. One for your . . . private business!”

He dragged a hand over his chest. “You didn’t seem to have a problem exploring me yesterday.”

“That was yesterday!” Before she was reminded how dangerous this man was to her being with that kiss. How deeply different their worlds were.

“I still don’t mind if you look.”

As if she were staring!

She wasn’t staring.

She was observing. Professionally. She snapped her gaze firmly upward. Ceiling. The ceiling was lovely. No muscles whatsoever. “Put on a shirt and trousers!”

Lilly heard a rustle, and shortly after, “Done.”

She glanced over and glared at the man’s bare chest. “Shirt, Dagger. The word is shirt.”

He held out his finger, on which said a shirt dangled. “I thought you’d want to wear this.”

“Me?”

“Didn’t you say you like to sleep in men’s shirts?”