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He's a total stranger.
Until the cold makes me crave his rugged heat.
Baz is almost too much man – huge and rippling with muscles. Everyone says he's the strong, silent type, but we communicate just fine through those rough palms and deep whispers.
Yet I can't trust these feelings rushing through me like the cold wind outside. What do I know about men? Nothing. I can't jump into a relationship with a stranger who considers us a done deal after just a few days. Besides, a man that gorgeous belongs with a supermodel, not a curvy girl huddled over an industrial stove.
When we're forced to share his bed by the fire, this quiet man lets loose a flurry of filthy and passionate words that make my head (and body) spin out of control.
Baz growls that I belong to him. Is that already the truth?
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