He took an exact replica of his mantle from the closet. “It’s cold outside. I’m not waiting for you to get dressed.”
I fidgeted with my hands. “Okay.” He draped the mantle over me, the material smoother and lighter than I thought. A woody scent washed over me. His scent. “What body wash do you use?”
He half-coughed and half-laughed, and I looked away embarrassed for not beating down my stupid curiosity. Even more annoying, he didn’t answer like he wanted me to keep wondering.
He fastened the clasps at the neck of the mantle, and I tried to ignore the way his fingers grazed my collarbones. I hated how hypersensitive I was to even his most delicate touch.
I fixed the mantle, so it covered me fully neck down. “It’s too long. I’ll get it dirty.”
He gave me a mask and once I wore it, he
