She needed to stay away from him too, for so many reasons, none of which she could remember right in that moment. Her mind was muddled. All she knew was his scent, that scent of burning wood and heady brandy, and his voice—that deep, gravel voice that pebbled her nipples—and those searing silver eyes—those eyes that made her breath catch and lips tingle. She was nothing but pure sensation in that moment, from the roots of her wild, loose hair to the tips of her curled toes, and she was only pressed into him.
