“Would you happen to have an extra shirt?” Sakura asked, chewing on her inner lip and staring into her car. “I don’t really want to drive home in soaked clothes. I don’t have any extras here. I really should do that …” Her voice quieted toward the end, as if she was talking to herself.
Long-sleeved shirt clinging to her braless body, Sakura crossed her arms and shivered in the rain. I tore my gaze away from her—because if I didn’t, I would probably shove her up against the car again and take her—and took her hand.
When I reached my car, I opened the back door. “Get in.”
“But I’m all wet.”
“Get in, Sakura. You’re freezing. I have a shirt in my trunk.”
After Sakura finally shuffled into the car, I shut the door, retrieved an extra shirt of mine from the trunk, and slid into the car from
