She was easy to talk to, easy to look at it . . . and when she smiled at him . . . well, he couldn’t call that easy. It hit him in the chest, in the weirdest damn way.
Swallowing, she licked her lips and then she could have whimpered, begged for mercy, because she could taste him. Taste him, and it made her want to throw herself against him and kiss him. Again, and again .

Auteur: Shiloh Walker