Liam's chest rose and fell with deliberate slowness as Midnight nestled against him, her weight both foreign and somehow right.
Inhale. Exhale. Slowly. Don't wake her.
But her scent, like night-blooming jasmine with faint cinnamon, wafted up from her hair, making his nostrils flare. Her side pressed against his, soft curves moulding to the hard planes of his chest. Through the thin fabric of her tunic, he could feel the unmistakable peaks of her nipples hardening against him.
Is she not wearing a bra? Why isn't she wearing a bra?
Liam's mind short-circuited. His massive hands, capable of crushing stone, hovered uncertainly over her back.
Think about onions and think lettuce, think cooking, think burnt pancakes.
He mentally recited his shopping list, focusing on the mundane to distract from the warmth spreading through his lower abdomen. Midnight sighed contentedly in her sleep, burrowing closer. Her tail curled around his leg.
"You look like you're about to explode, big guy."
