She keeps her gaze downward, seemingly fixated on the work her hands are doing, but she finds herself distracted by the tangle of his fingers in her hair, the light movements of his fingers against her scalp. She resists the temptation to lean into the touch and merely hums quietly, a soft sound of approval, even as she pulls the fastenings loose one section at a time, exposing more skin.

Her brow furrows when he stills her hands, covering them with his one, and she finally glances up slowly, her expression confused. "What is it?" Fear slams into her like a barreling crash, and she curls her fingers against her palms, getting the sinking feeling that perhaps this has all been a terrible error in judgment on her part.