I press my face between his pecs and inhale with gusto. “Thank goodness I left my phone back at the trailer. I’m sure Dustin is blowing it up right now.” “Why?” “Why?” I begin the slow journey of undoing the buttons on his flannel, starting beneath the notch in his throat. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but a six-foot-six lumberjack kidnapped me from a bar earlier this evening.” “Six foot seven,” he grumbles. “I stand corrected.”
