"Huh…" Serena said, a small blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I am not that hot. Besides, it was just my hair."
"I insist," Darius said, standing up from the seat.
He strode to the small closet in the corner, the wooden floor creaking beneath his steps. With a swift tug, he threw open the doors and rummaged through the neatly folded garments inside. Then he froze, one hand braced against the frame.
"You see," he said, voice slightly strained, "this place was meant for temporary stays by the Hawthornes and, well… I don't have anything suited for you."
"That's okay," Serena said quickly, pushing her hair behind her ears.
Truth be told, she wanted out of the clothes she wore. Every dart in the bodice seemed to pinch, every seam felt like it pressed harder with each passing second. She couldn't stop thinking about Darius's hands on the zipper, the fabric falling away, his fingers brushing against her back-
A small, mangled cry escaped her lips.
