Danielle Bound
For Daniella all was darkness. The sleep mask he had slipped over her eyes encased her in velvet black. Every other sense was heightened. She heard the soft whirr of the fan and the rustle of his clothing, as perhaps he crossed his legs or shifted in his seat. She smelled the honeysuckle through the open window and the sharp tang of cologne whenever he drew close. She felt the prickling of cooling sweat on her exposed skin every time the fanned air brushed her. And she felt the tautness of the...