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Chapter 45

When she stormed out of the crowded bar, the first thing he noticed was her hair. Thick and dark and cascading past her shoulders in waves. He could almost feel his fingers wrapped around it. Fisting. Pulling firmly. Just enough to barely hurt her.

The expanse of back between her hair and her black halter top was the color of warm honey. He could almost feel his fingers lightly tracing the indention of her spine.

The curve of her hips and her round bottom swelled under the salsa-style, flared black and red skirt that clung to her like liquid silk. He could almost feel his hands cupping her, griping the curves and pulling them closer to his own heat.

The smooth, bare, honey-colored legs with the ankle tattoo and the strappy red heels. He could almost feel them wrapped around him, the heels digging into his sides.

Peter was about to step closer, into the light of the street lamp, when she turned.


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