Sierra's fingers trembled with reverence as they moved to the buttons of his shirt—slow, deliberate, each one slipping free with a soft pop that echoed in the hushed room.
The fabric parted like curtains on a revelation, revealing the hard planes of his chest—bronze skin stretched over carved muscle, faint sheen of sweat catching the low light, the rapid thud of his heart visible beneath.
She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall forgotten to the floor, palms gliding over the heat of his skin, tracing the sharp cut of his collarbones, the ridges of his abs, feeling him tense and flex under her touch.
Her breath caught as she reached his belt—fingers fumbling once, then steadying, the leather whispering free, the buckle clinking softly. She tugged the zipper down tooth by tooth, the sound loud in the charged silence, and eased his trousers and boxer briefs down together in one slow pull.
