Storm
I couldn’t wait another second for Doyle to finish his shower.
The heat coursing through my body was becoming unbearable, and every instinct inside me was screaming for him.
I pushed open the bathroom door.
Then stopped.
What was I doing?
I didn’t want to throw myself at him like some desperate nymphomaniac. The last thing I wanted was for Doyle to think badly of me.
I quickly turned around and walked back into the bedroom.
I stood there for several seconds, staring at the bathroom door.
This was ridiculous.
Doyle had already warned me what my heat would be like. For the next two weeks, neither of us was going to be thinking particularly rationally.
So why was I fighting it now?
I turned around again.
This time, I was going back in.
I had barely taken a step when agony
