Seraphina's Point Of View
I swallowed hard as I quickly tore my eyes away from his bare torso, clearing my throat awkwardly. "Ermm... I... I was..."
Stop stuttering, Seraphina! I scolded myself internally, squeezing my purse strap like a lifeline.
He's just a man. A very large, completely shirtless, heavily muscular man, but a man nonetheless.
My brain refused to cooperate with that particular argument, offering instead a vivid replay of every ridge and plane of muscle I'd glimpsed before I'd forced myself to look away.
Traitorous thing, my brain. It had never once been this unhelpful during an actual crisis, and yet here it was, cataloging the exact shade of his skin like some lovesick artist.
