“The shirt touches his neck and smooths over his back. It slides down his sides. It even goes down below his belt— down into his pants. Lucky shirt.”

“Fuck, it's hot in here.” He put the guitar down, stood up, whipped his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. Then he pulled off his belt like D'Artagnan drawing a sword...”

“He touches my face, covering my cheeks with his hands, sliding his fingertips down my neck, fitting his fingers to the slight curve of my hips. I can't stop.”

“He swapped the fistful of my shirt for one in my hair, and ground his mouth against mine. I exploded. I shoved at him, and clawed him closer. He shoved me back, and yanked me tighter to his body. I pulled his hair. He pulled mine. He didn‘t fight fair. Actually, he fought exactly fair. He didn‘t extend courtesies, not a single one. I bit his lip. He tripped me and pushed me down to the stone floor of the cavern. I punched him. He straddled me. I ripped his shirt down the front, left it hanging in tatters from his shoulders. "I liked that shirt", he snarled. He rose over me, a dark demon, glistening in the torchlight, dripping sweat and blood, his torso covered with tattoos that disappeared beneath his waistband. He grabbed the hem of my shirt, tore it straight up to my neck, and inhaled sharply. ”

“He obviously enjoyed her annoyance. He took his time and uncapped the bottle of water. Removed his ball cap. Dumped the water over his head.Julianna’s breath caught. Her body slammed into overdrive at the raw sexual scene before her. Water dripped from his thick blond hair and ran down his face. Over a carved jaw. Slid down to dampen perfectly cut lips.His t-shirt soaked up the liquid and clung to his chest like a Women’s Night gone wild. Hunger hit hard and deep as she followed the trail down to his belt buckle, where droplets slid under the denim and hid beyond.”

“He advanced on her to steal a quick kiss, then took her by the shoulders and just stood there for a minute, rocking back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet, smiling down at her, looking her over.“Like your shirt,” he said.She’d forgotten what she had on. She glanced down and watched his finger trace the words that scrolled across her chest. Just that light touch of his, even through her shirt, made her shiver with longing.The message was SAY I WON’T. Above that, in smaller letters, “Tell me that I won’t do it . . and I will.”“That inspires me,” he said, with his most wicked grin. “You know how I love a challenge.”