Pine, mint, and clean cotton assault my nose, making me lightheaded with lust. I press my knees together just to stop the ache between my legs with Aleck Fox’s name written all over it.

It’s only because it’s been months since you’ve been touched, I tell myself. You’re a red-blooded woman with a healthy need to orgasm. This has nothing to do with Fox the Vagina Tamer. The last thing you need are your needs to be in the hands or mouth of Aleck Fox.

“A book,” I rasp, reaching for it, but Aleck holds it up and out of my reach. “Give it, Aleck.”

“What are you, twelve? ‘Give it, Aleck,’” he mocks.

“Are you?!” I roll my eyes, then stand from the bed and fold my arms over my chest in defiance. “You’re so immature. It’s a wonder you win any cases at all. Has your closing argument ever been the Plaintiff started it?”

Aleck laughs. “I’m a corporate lawyer, Grimm. I rarely see the inside of a courtroom.” He studies the shirtless male on the cover with a smirk and smiling eyes. “Awaken My Heart by Izzy Masters… You reading smut, Miss Sommers?”

“It’s not smut! It’s a romance novel, and it’s one of my favorites.”

Aleck fans through the pages, stopping in the middle of the book, opening it wide. His narrowed eyes scan the page while my mind goes wild.

Please don’t be a sex scene! Please don’t be a sex scene! Please don’t be a sex scene!

A broad grin curls Aleck’s lips from ear to ear.

It’s a goddamn sex scene.

“His full-mast cock pressed into my slit so deliciously I almost came before he even thrust it inside me…” Aleck’s eyes slowly lift from the page to my grimacing face, a thin layer of sweat coating my forehead, my eyebrows dipping in embarrassment. “Winter Sommers, you just got a lot more interesting.”

“Stop.” I hold my hand up, attempting to stop the onslaught of torment headed my way. “It’s a love story. You happened to land on a sex scene. Sometimes I even skip them—”

“There’s no sense in denying it. The cat, so to speak, is out of the bag. You’re a sex-crazed, unfortunately sex-starved, hopeless romantic. Do you rub yourself off to this stuff?”

I jolt forward and grab a pillow. Aleck immediately drops the book at his side and lifts onto his knees just as I swing the goose down-filled weapon. He catches the pillow, yanking it forward, forcing me to drop to the bed in front of him. Our unabashed laughter fills the room as Aleck digs his fingertips into my sides, my stomach, my armpits, and thighs, tickling me relentlessly.

Although Aleck mentally exhausts me, he physically exhilarates me. There’s no denying the sexual tension between us, it’s impossible not to notice. To say I’m attracted to him is like assuming Doomsdayers buy toilet paper in bulk. It’s a given.

Because everyone is attracted to Aleck Fox. He’s a god in a room full of mortal men. A donut on a table full of Brussels sprouts. He’s as mesmerizing as a brightly lit and twinkling Christmas tree in a pitch-black room. It’s likely everyone’s lust-pit reacts to him.