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A flash of white catches my eye. The ermine darts across my driveway, his white belly flaring in the moonlight.
Thorne startles. “What was that?”
“An ermine. He seems to have followed me home from the center somehow,” I say with a smile.
“Interesting.”
“I know. I’ve had a lot of interesting wildlife encounters lately,” I say.
“Like what?”
Thinking of the wolf and the bear, I shake my head. “Nothing. Do you want to come in?”
Thorne tilts his head. His lips curl.
“Yes.”
Nervously, I open the door. Oh god. My place is a mess. I haven’t cleaned it.
I need to tell him to go.
I spin. “Thorne I?—”
Any protest I have is cut off by his lips.
He’s kissing me.
Thorne, handsome, manly Thorne.
Is kissing me.
That’s the last clear thought I have. Because when Thorne’s hands cup my face, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss, I can’t think of anything else.
It’s only him.
It’s only this.
I moan, and he gently walks us backward. The door closes behind him.
Pulling back from his lips, I whisper, “You have to push it. The lock is…”
Thorne spins, making a rumbling noise. I hear the door click shut.
Then he’s back.
Apparently, extremely hot men get really good at kissing.
Or maybe it’s just Thorne.
He makes my skin feel like it’s on fire. Everywhere his hands touch, everywhere his lips land, I feel like I’m going to explode.
Like I’m burning up.
For him.
His lips move down my neck. “Do you believe me now, iris?”
“What?” I gasp.
