BRIAR’S POV
Chocolate brown hair falls in soft waves around his chiseled face, framing gentle grey eyes that hold a hint of mischief.
His features are striking—like a Greek god stepped out of a painting.
If I wasn’t currently running for my life, I’d be frozen, mesmerized by his beauty, unable to tear my eyes away.
But reality crashes back in, reminding me I can’t afford the luxury of staring.
I scream, unable to control the pitch, grabbing at a white towel hanging by the side and covering my body with it.
“Relax… it’s just me, sweetheart,” he chides softly, a sly smirk on his lips as he draws closer to me, arms outstretched to welcome me.
His countenance is chill and playful, as if I’m supposed to know him, as if it would be possible to remain calm in this situation.
I look a
