“The scent filled her, energizing her. It ran through her veins, through her heart, and up to her head. She needed. This new scent was a drug, an opiate. She’d trade anything, do anything, give anything to wrap herself in it. It was the smell of pine trees, the musk of a wild thing caged, and something sweet and tasty. The wolf in her howled. This was it. She had to have this— Wait… She was pressed against warm flesh. Her hand rested on the side of a muscled abdomen. The hard pillow beneath her ...head was a bicep. And her nose was touching the smooth skin of a man’s pecs. His other arm was across her, his hand on her thigh—her naked thigh—though it was just below whatever she was tangled in. Her clothing wasn’t the only thing all tangled up. She had her leg between his. He was in jeans. No shirt, but jeans. Yeah. Oh very much yeah. Hell to the yeah. This was clearly a fantasy image burned into her psyche by far too many jeans ads most likely, but she embraced it.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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