Logan
Summer walked into the garden in a green dress.
That was the start of it. That was where my discipline had cracked the first crack of the night — when she'd appeared in that dress, her blonde hair loose, the small slit on her dress that showed her thigh and curves, Jet— my wolf —pressed forward inside me with a force I'd been managing for a week and was about to lose control of.
She wasn't trying to be beautiful. That was the thing. She wasn't dressed like Audrey, who'd cornered me at the bar within twenty minutes of arriving. She had walked in wearing something modest and quiet and she had still — somehow and completely — undone me with one look.
I'd spent the night trying not to look at her. But I'd failed at that.
I brought Audrey here since I knew I needed a distraction and
