Chloe's POV.
I watched as Hardin drove out of my house, although his scent and the memories of everything everything we've done together lingered on my head.
I stood at the door for a minute longer after he left, arms folded over my chest as I leaned against it, smiling like a fool. The weekend had been… magical. No, scratch that... it had been dangerous, sinful, addictive. We had fallen deep, deeper than I thought was even possible.
And now, it was Monday morning. And reality came knocking like a doorbell.
I needed to get back to work.
With a small sigh, I turned away from the door and dragged my weekend bag across the living room toward the bedroom. The entire space emitted a deceptive calmness. As if the storm brewing in my chest didn’t exist.
I opened my bag and began unpacking. My clothes still smelled like Hardin’s cologne... masculine, spicy. I paused mid fold, pressing one of my dresses against my face, breathing him in like some sort of addict. God, what was wrong with me?
