False Belief.

"Hazel…"

Louisa was frankly blown away by the sophistication of his bedroom. She stopped and blinked. And blinked again. Every pace she padded against, on the floor, felt akin to walking inside a King's bedroom. She could see all of it, the rich furniture despite that the candle chandelier was burning dim at that hour. For some reason, more eerie than sane, she considered the aroma of that man's bedroom to be a whore. Because of how it shot up her libido by a million degrees!

Louisa rubbed her legs together and smacked her lips, biting the lower layer. She could almost feel the fluids threatening to swoosh out of there.

"Hazel." He called again.

Her shoulders jumped.

His voice was suspiciously close, so she turned around to see. When she did, she was shocked to find him where she had guessed he would be. He was but a hair's breadth away from her. Their hips were practically touching.

Gulp!

Rochester staggered backward, and frowned. And then hissed.