Lit aflame?

You can't look away from the redhead in front of you, that burning copper hair catching light like something genuinely dangerous.

You feel the warmth before you even get close, a heat that has nothing to do with the room temperature and everything to do with the curve of that bare shoulder, the way skin seems lit from underneath.

You want to trace every freckle with your mouth, working slowly down toward places that make your breath go shallow, your hands already forgetting how to stay still.