He lowered his mouth to hers, felt the restless shift of her legs. Oh, yeah, she’d be wild. Not that he’d ever find out.

Just one kiss. A simple, basic kiss.

Her scent, a mix of Nocturne and whatever essence rose out of her heart and soul, connected with something deep inside him in a powerful way. In a way that had him locked into place with her. Why did this woman feel so right in his arms?

Fuck it. I’m going in. He brushed his lips over hers, intending to keep it clean, light, but that sexy mouth opened for him, and he fell inside her lush, wet heat. It was tentative, a little awkward, but the moment their tongues touched, a riot of sparks burst in his chest.

She tasted like tequila and a hint of salsa, her mouth velvety soft and warm. Her hands came around the back of his neck, kissing him with wild abandon, as she sucked his tongue into her mouth. Her fingernails scraped across his scalp, and as the kiss deepened, turned carnal, she gripped a fistful of hair and pulled.

Jesus. Everything he’d held back—all the lust and desire and frustration he felt around her—crashed over him, and he lost it with the clutch of her desperate fingers. The moment he rolled over her, pushing a thigh between hers, she rocked against him, rubbing her core against his cock.

Oh, fuck. He wanted her. His whole body was bursting with want for her.

But then she cried out, and he snapped out of it, jerking away.

She looked at him in horror, like she’d done something wrong.

“You’re sexy as fuck, Princess. Never doubt it.” He rolled off the bed, grabbed his boots, and got the hell out of there.

Chapter Eleven

With country music playing on the speakers, Rosalina took in her reflection in the mirror. The jeans fit all right, she supposed, but the blouse stretched tight across her chest, the pearl snaps barely closing.

You know what? I hate it. She hated everything she’d tried on so far.

Unzipping them, she jerked the pants off her hips—fast, like they were covered in fleas. She eyed one final pair folded on a chair. Why bother? It’s just more of the same.

Why am I so restless? So irritable? It’s just clothes.

She remembered Brodie’s words last night.

Sexy as fuck.

Yeah, that was why. Because of Brodie. That kiss. He’d told her she was sexy, and it had nothing to do with the way she dressed or wore make-up or how much skin she showed.

You’re sexy as fuck, Princess. Never doubt it.

She believed him. His arousal pressing between her legs had proved it.