Chapter 6
Juno
Holy saguaro.
His strong fingers only touched my skin for a fraction of a second, yet I’m on the verge of turning into a pathetic puddle of need. I blame the scent of the jacket enveloping me—clean, with a hint of almonds, plus something ineffably male.
Needless to say, I feel instantly warm, and not just because the jacket covers me to my knees. Some of this warmth is a side effect of the heat furnace that’s come to life between my legs for some reason.
He steps away from me, and my shoulders miss his touch already.
Wait. What the hell am I thinking? The cold must’ve really scrambled my brains.
Speaking of brain scramble—the way his white shirt clings to his powerful chest doesn’t help matters.
Sliding my arms into the jacket sleeves—because I might as well—I clear
