Indoors, dark clouds obscured the moon, and the only sounds were those made by the wind rustling the trees, echoing continuously.
Cressida Jones seemed to hear her own heartbeat, like a drum, rapid and chaotic, ultimately dissolving into nothingness as Tim Payne suddenly bent over and lowered his head...
After all, he had drunk some wine and couldn't control his actions. His lips accidentally brushed past her ear.
"Cressida," his voice sounded like it was rubbed with sand, low and magnetic.
"Hmm?"
"Are you... feeling hot?"
His burning forehead rested on her neck and shoulder, gently rubbing, creating sparks out of nowhere. Cressida Jones tried hard to keep calm, "I'm fine, not really hot."
"But your ears and your face, why are they so hot and red?"
To avoid his hot breath, Cressida Jones turned her face away.
"Maybe it's a bit stuffy in here." She cleared her throat, "I'll open the window for ventilation."
