Willow woke to warmth—slow, spreading warmth across her back, her hips, the length of her legs—so soft and lulling that for a disoriented heartbeat she believed she was still on the plane, cocooned in the muted drone of engines. But the moment her senses sharpened, memory struck fast and merciless, splitting through her like lightning tearing open the dark.
Zane's hands.His mouth.Her back hitting the wall.The ragged break of his breath against hers.The bed.The way she clung to him when she finally surrendered to what had been simmering between them for weeks.The things she felt.The things she let herself want.The shock of how fiercely her body had answered his.
