I was wearing his jacket, so I barely got wet, but he was soaked through. His white shirt clung to his chest, clearly revealing his lean, toned muscles. I pursed my lips. 'Someone with military training really is a different breed.'
"Henry, here, dry off." After more than a minute of unnerving silence, broken only by the sound of the rain, the man beside her still showed no intention of driving. Yara Quillan took a pack of tissues from her backpack and handed it to Henry Lester.
But he simply turned and shot her a cold glance, making her heart pound in her chest.
Without any hesitation, Henry Lester pulled off his soaking wet shirt right in front of her. With a cold expression, he took the pack of tissues she offered and turned on the car's heater.
Unsure if it was the warm air or the situation itself, Yara Quillan's face grew hot. She awkwardly turned away, refusing to look at the man beside her.
