Avery was lying there.
Alone in the room and draped in a plush robe, her skin glowing with a dewy sheen, her posture loose and utterly relaxed. Her hair, slightly tousled from the massage, cascaded over the pillow beneath her head. Her lips were parted just enough to hint at the depth of her relaxation, and her lashes fluttered as if she were on the edge of sleep.
Archie felt his heart stutter at the sight.
For a moment, just a fraction of a second, he forgot why he was angry. His grip on the doorknob tightening as he berated himself... Focus, damn it.
"Archie?"
But then she blinked up at him, her gaze hazy with post-massage bliss, and instead of answering the unspoken question in her eyes, he exhaled sharply and stepped inside, jaw clenched.
"Enjoying yourself, I see."