Julian walked into the bathroom and picked up a white nightgown on the marble countertop. The soft material was the pajamas she had changed out of. He held it tightly and slowly moved it to the tip of his nose to sniff it.
The sweet smell of her rose was invaded and possessed by his scent.
Looking up, I saw a stern face in the mirror, with a smooth forehead, black hair, sharp features carved out of a knife, and a pair of blood-red eyes. Lust was burning in the eyes, but it was instantly replaced by pain.
He chuckled from the depths of his chest, as if laughing at himself for doing something he knew was impossible, laughing at her cowardice, and laughing at the fate that played tricks on him.
When he lowered his head again, he had withdrawn from the emotions.
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