Moonlight bathed his lean, muscular body, while the cool night air streaming through open windows ruffled his hair as he slept. She could hear him breathing. He slowly opened his eyes as if he sensed her presence. "Frankie?" He blinked a couple of times as if she was an apparition. "I'm cold," whispered Frankie as she wrapped her arms around herself to stifle a shiver. "Do you want me to get you some blankets?" She moved a step toward him. "No, I want you to be my blanket." She watched as Lane sat motionless for a second, but then he moved over so he could peel back a section of the blanket and sheet on his bed for her. She slowly moved to him, desire's heat rushing through her body. The breeze caught her hair and whipped it about her face. Her thin blue nightgown fluttered. She made no effort to cover herself. Vaguely aware of breathing in and out, she found it wondrous she could breathe at all. She'd never wanted a man like she wanted Lane. Never. She reached the edge of the bed and crawled in next to him, positioning herself so her head lay on his shoulder. His musky and very male scent intoxicated her. He pulled her near and she sighed with pleasure as she tried to press even closer against him. "Are you getting warm?" he asked as he lightly rubbed her arm. In response, she licked and nibbled on his ear lobe and snaked a long leg across his thighs. She whispered, "Oh, I think you can get me much warmer than this." Braced on his elbows, he looked down at her.
