Harlow demanded to know his question again and again, but he said, “In a minute,” every time. Under her watchful gaze, he slowly stripped to his underwear. “Those muscles don’t fight fair,” she grumbled. “And you think those legs of yours do?” He got as comfortable as possible, considering desire burned in his bones. She snuggled comfortably in bed and switched off the lamp, throwing shadows over the room. “While you’re up there on that cold, hard bed, I’m down here on these soft-as-silk sheets.” Silk, sandpaper—whatever. “It’s like you’re punishing yourself when I only want to pamper you.” “Nice try, Becky, but I’m not buying the bull you’re selling.” He covered his smile, realized she couldn’t see him and let it stretch wide. “Becky? That’s the nickname I get?” “Hate it?”
What do You think about The Hotter You Burn (2015)?
