He hugs me. Wraps his dog-filled arms around me and squeezes. Leather and cedar and warmth blanket me as I stand there stunned, completely unable to move. I want to move. I want to move so damn badly I’m tingling. That has to be the reason I’m tingling. Has to. It definitely has nothing at all to do with how good his hard body feels pressed against mine, or how perfectly I seem to fit against him.
