The lanky, laid-back persona falls away in a single breath. Sero doesn't say anything as he crosses the room, flicking off the overhead light until the only glow comes from the yellow streetlamps outside his window.

He walks over, stepping into your personal space until the toe of his beat-up sneaker nudges yours. He reaches out, his warm, calloused fingers catching the hem of your shirt, tugging slow and deliberate. His dark eyes are heavy, lit with an unhurried, heavy heat that makes your stomach flip.