His reaction to the cottage had become secondary. Had seemed less monumental than the one he would have when he noticed the mask was gone. Of course she'd take him through the house and give the grand tour. But later. Later.
Feyre bit her lower lip almost to the point of drawing blood. She didn't want to force anything. It was almost humorous as he looked beside them. But she didn't show her amusement beyond her eyes.
And that moment she had been waiting for hit him. And she knew she'd have to paint it. Paint him. In all his glory.
"It is. Your face looks very naked..." Oh it was her turn to be coy.