Hunter rests a hand on the building behind me. His height overwhelms me. The scent of pine clings to him like a second skin. I can’t help it. I reach up and fist my hands in the soft material of his shirt. “Now what are you doing?” he asks. His brown eyes are warm and soft as they gaze down at me. “I don’t know,” I confess. Hunter really should not be walking around like this. It’s doing funny things to me. Things like thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. What it would be like to feel his beard scratch against my jaw. Against other places.
