Put those right back on!

But she didn’t. And the fire alarm clanged in her head.

She reached for the hem of her nightgown … pulled it over her head … stood naked and trembling. Appalled, she watched her fingers curl around the covers and tug. Even as the blankets fell back, she told herself she wasn’t going to do it. But her breasts were tingling, her body crying out with need.

She set her hip on the mattress, then slowly slipped her legs beneath the covers. Oh, God, she was really doing this. She was naked, and she’d climbed into bed with Kevin Tucker.

Who let out a soft snore and rolled over, taking most of the covers with him.

She stared at his back and knew she’d just been given a divine sign telling her to leave. She had to get out of his bed right this minute!

Instead, she curled around him, pressed her breasts against his back, breathed him in. There … that whiff of musky aftershave. It had been so long since she’d touched a man like this.

He stirred, shifted, muttered something as if he were dreaming.

The shriek of the fire alarm grew louder. She slid her arm around him and stroked his chest.

Only for a minute, she told herself. And then she’d leave.

Kevin felt his old girlfriend Katya’s hand on his chest. He’d been standing in his garage with the first car he’d ever owned and Eric Clapton. Eric had been giving him a guitar lesson, but instead of a guitar, Kevin kept trying to play a leaf rake. Then he looked up, and Eric was gone. He was in this weird log room with Katya.

She kept stroking his chest, and he realized that she was naked. He forgot about Eric’s guitar lesson as blood rushed to his groin.

He’d broken it off with Katya months ago, but now he had to have her. She used to wear bad perfume. Too strong. It was a stupid reason to break up with a woman, because now she smelled like cinnamon rolls.

Good smell. Sexy smell. Made him sweat. He couldn’t remember being this turned on by her when they were together. No sense of humor. Too much time putting on makeup. But now he needed her right away. Right that moment.

He rolled toward her. Curled his hand around her bottom. It felt different. Fleshier. More to squeeze.

He ached, and she smelled so good. Like oranges now. And her breasts were full against his chest—warm, soft, juicy oranges—and her mouth was on his, and her hands were all over him. Playing. Stroking. Finding their way to his cock.

He groaned as she caressed him. He smelled her woman’s smell and knew he wouldn’t last long. His arm didn’t want to move, but he had to feel her.

She was slick, wet honey.

He moaned and rolled over. On top of her. Pushed inside her. It didn’t happen easily. Strange.