The soft rustle of fabric and the scrape of wood were the only sounds in the dimly lit room as Jessamyn hastily tucked away the paper she'd been writing on. The delicate scent of ink lingered in the air as she closed the drawer, her fingers trembling slightly. But even as she tried to hide her secrets, she felt his presence—Jerrick, standing impossibly close, his warmth enveloping her like a blanket she both craved and feared.
He was so near that she could feel his breath on her neck. The briefest touch of his sleeve brushing against her arm sent a shiver down her spine. Her pulse quickened as his long, deft fingers slowly trailed along the edge of the drawer. Each movement was deliberate, a silent question hanging in the space between them. Jessamyn's grip tightened on the drawer's handle, her knuckles white as she pressed it shut with firm resolve.
