In the corner of the room, the heavy velvet curtain rustled.
Delaney came out of her hiding spot.
She looked entirely disheveled. Her dark hair was a wild tangle around her shoulders. Her face was flushed a bright, burning red that extended all the way down her neck to her collarbone. She was clutching her silk robe tightly around her waist, as if it could somehow protect her from the overwhelming embarrassment crashing down upon her.
She could not look at him. The memory of the kiss—the wild, desperate way she had grabbed his shirt and pulled him to her—replayed in her mind, making her cheeks burn even hotter.
"I should go," Delaney whispered. Her voice trembled.
She tried to move quickly across the room, keeping her head down, avoiding meeting his face. She just wanted to reach the door and run back to the safety of the Blue Suite.
But in her haste, and in her blind embarrassment, she did not watch where she was walking.
