I let my eyes trail over her exposed skin. As cold as it is outside, it’s sweltering inside the greenhouse, and Ivy is wearing only a tank top. A light sheen of sweat glistens on her neck. I want to lick it off. Taste her. I devour that moisture with my eyes and then lift my gaze. She must read my thoughts because I watch her neck as she swallows and goose bumps break against her hot skin.
