The cold bite of the ocean quickly gave way to a reckless, burning heat as the afternoon unfolded.
We dragged ourselves out of the surf, shivering and breathless, collapsing onto the sun-warmed sand near the base of the black rock cliffs. Ryder retrieved a heavy canvas pack from the back of his truck, pulling out thick woollen blankets, a thermos of hot black coffee, and a spread of artisan bread, sharp cheese, and cured meats.
Wrapped in a dry blanket draped over my shoulders, I sat tucked between them on the sand. The salty wind whipped our damp hair, but the heavy, radiant heat radiating off both of their bare chests kept the chill at bay.
Dante handed me a cup of steaming coffee, his long fingers brushing against mine, his icy blue eyes never leaving my face. "Eat, little wolf," he
