Her cheeks flush at the implication in my sentence, yet the desire brings that familiar sheen to her granite grey eyes, making it darken subtly and dilute. I remove my hand slowly as I lean forward, my lips closing the distance—
"Seneca, Micajah! We're—Oh fuck!" An ever-so-familiar voice yells, just as the door flies open without even a cursory knock.
We should've locked the damn thing last night.
Hey, you can't blame me. You know very well what was in my mind, and let me assure you, locking the door was the last thing in my list since the house was empty.
We jump apart and scramble to cover ourselves, which is thankfully not hard as the sheets are already up to my waist and I'd covered most of her from the intruder's gaze with my body. But still I yank the sheets higher and pull it over us, hurrying to tamper down the red threatening to darken the skin on my cheeks.