Feeling like an angel in white

White lace sits against her pale skin like frost on glass, the fabric tracing every curve before surrendering to bare flesh. Her red hair spills over one shoulder, a burning contrast to the softness wrapped around her body.

She holds your gaze with something between innocence and full awareness of exactly what she's doing to you. The angel reference isn't irony — it's a dare.

You notice the way the light catches the ends of her hair, copper turning to flame. Whatever she's wearing underneath that white, she's decided you've earned the right to wonder.