creak as it opens and reveals Flynn standing on the landing. My next inhale gets stuck in my throat, my heart pounding like a drum as I take him in. He isn’t wearing his guard uniform today—though he did opt for black trousers tucked into brown boots that go to his calf. A form-fitting dark green tunic draws my gaze, the golden tan pigment of his skin glowing against the rich color. The laces of the tunic at his neck are loosened enough that the skin of his chest peeks through. My mouth dries and swallowing becomes momentarily difficult as I tilt my head the rest of the way up to look at him.
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