Diana's breath caught as the door clicked shut behind them. The room was quiet, the late-afternoon light filtering through half-drawn curtains. Wesley didn't speak. He simply turned to her, eyes darker than she'd ever seen them, and began unbuttoning her uniform blouse with steady, deliberate fingers.
She didn't stop him. Her hands rose to his chest, resting lightly against the fabric of his shirt while he worked. When the last button slipped free, he eased the shirt from her shoulders. It fell to the floor without a sound. His palms slid down her arms, then settled at her waist, thumbs brushing the soft skin just above the waistband of her skirt.
"Wesley…" she whispered.
