Lor's eyes lingered, a familiar heat stirring in his core despite the weight of their conversation.
She bent slightly to smooth the skirt, giving him a fleeting glimpse of her pale thighs, the shadow between them bare before the cloth sealed it away, a teasing reminder of what he'd claimed.
Her blouse followed, each button sliding shut with trembling fingers, the fabric clinging to her flushed breasts, the material barely containing her curves.
Every button seemed a struggle, the blouse straining as she tucked herself back in, her nipples still faintly visible through the thin fabric.
She slipped her jacket over her shoulders last, smoothing it with hands that shook, her glasses sliding back onto her nose, the mask of Miss Silvia settling into place.
But her blush—vivid and unyielding—betrayed the woman beneath, the witch who'd unraveled in his hands.
