Chapter 30
HEATH
Christmas Day
Everything below my waist stirs just looking at her.
She’s f*****g delectable when she’s vulnerable, her defenses down. I haven’t met many people with more walls than Violet Keats. The tough-as-nails lawyer could best any bricklayer.
Her hair is straightened and sleek, a silky sheet of glossy ginger. Her lips are painted blush red, and she wears a dark black skirt suit, the jacket and skirt fitting her body perfectly, accentuating her petite but curvaceous shape. The shirt beneath the jacket is as red as her mouth and nearly as enticing.
I stare at her with brazen longing. My icy girl. There’s no girl in those curves, nothing childish in that skin. I can attest from personal experience…that she’s all woman.
She freezes, shifting the black purse that’s
