The fine hairs at the back of her neck rose. Every nerve ending from her scalp to the base of her spine came violently, excruciatingly alive.
His nose grazed the curve where her neck met her shoulder. It wasn't a kiss. Not even a touch. Just the faintest contact of warm skin against hers, so light it could have been imagined, so deliberate it could not have been.
The scent of cigarette smoke clung to him. She had always smelled it on him numerous times. In the nightclub, in the car, on the contract papers, he had touched with those long, elegant fingers. But now, with his mouth inches from her throat, the scent was different. Stronger.... Deeper.... with the warm, woody undertone of his cologne and the dark, smoky fragrance that she had failed to wash out of her clothes for three days.
It filled her lungs, flooded her senses, and wrapped around her brain until she could not think of anything except the man pressed against her back and the arm locked around her waist.
