I promise I didn't intend for this shit to happen. This ridiculously absurd situation that made my newly perfected blood run both hot and cold like someone was fucking with my thermostat.
The penthouse hallway stretched before me, morning light painting everything in that expensive gold that only Miami money could buy. I'd just returned from my transformation, expecting to find everyone still passed out. Instead—
The words died in my throat like a stepped-on cricket. My enhanced senses—usually a razor-sharp instrument of control—betrayed me completely. Every drop of moisture on Margaret's skin screamed at me.
The curve of her hip, hollowed just above the towel, caught light like sculpted marble. Her breasts weren't just modest; they were real, soft and unbound, the dark tips pebbled with cold in a way that sent a jolt straight south despite the tsunami of wrong wrong wrong crashing through my brain.
