Fumiko's lips slowly reached for mine, but suddenly she froze. Her warm breath hit me, as her lips stood inches away from mine.
The Lumi Crystal on her desk flickered, casting shadows across her face. Her hair was loose and messy, framing her soft cheeks in a way that made me forget how to breathe.
Her white robe clung to her skin in the warm sticky air of the cottage, and the fabric was so thin that I couldn't resist staring at the curves beneath.
I could smell her cinnamon scent, mixed with the faint musty aroma of old books that filled the room. It pulled me closer to her, my heart pounding across her chest.
My hands were still on her waist, fingers pressing into the soft linen, feeling the heat of her body.
I expected her to throw it off, but she didn't pull away. Her yellow eyes, sharp and stormy, locked onto mine through her glasses, like she couldn't decide what she wanted to do next.
