My heart slammed against my ribs as I stared at King Landon Mercer's half-naked body. He stood before me with only boxer briefs covering his most intimate parts, water still dripping from his damp crimson hair. The hard planes of his muscled chest rose and fell with each breath, his tattoos rippling with the movement.
"Well?" he demanded. "I'm waiting, Seraphina."
I swallowed hard and stepped closer, forcing myself to breathe normally. I reached for the crimson silk shirt first, hands trembling slightly as I unfolded it. The fabric felt cool and luxurious between my fingers.
"Arms," I murmured, not daring to look up at his face.
He extended both arms, and I slid the shirt over them, trying desperately to minimize contact with his skin. But it was impossible—my fingers brushed against his warm flesh as I worked the fabric up his forearms and over his broad shoulders.
"Button it," he commanded when I stepped back.
