I don't need your help

As I finished getting dressed, I glanced toward the bathroom door, where Layla was still showering. Some rogue thought wondered what she might look like coming out of that shower, hair damp, cheeks flushed.

And then another stray memory crept up of how she'd looked at me before, her gaze accidentally betraying something like surprise, or maybe even a bit of… something else. I shook my head, mentally scoffing at myself.

What am I even thinking? I frowned, attempting to suppress the ridiculous curiosity that had crept in.

Any slip in my self-discipline was only going to cause more trouble. Layla was emotional and sentimental qualities I didn't want any part of, and she already had her own set of admirers. Letting myself be anything but distant would only complicate things.