Peter and Myka sat awkwardly across the fire from one another.
Myka stoked the flames with a branch, adjusting the logs as they crackled and popped with the heat of the blaze.
Peter swallowed as he lifted his gaze to Myka. The golden red hues of the sky and the firelight’s radiance highlighted him in a way that made Peter’s throat dry.
He closed his eyes to avoid the temptation, but that only made the strong smokey wood smell of the campfire stronger in his nostrils. A scent that had long been burned into his senses with images of Myka’s naked flesh under the moonlight.
Moans and growls of pleasure whispered in his ear, and the taste of peppermint and honey lingered on his tongue.
Peter fought against the tantalizing memories.
“I’m sorry.” Myka sighed.
Peter’s eyes opened wide as the words brought his mind crashing into the present.
“What?” he asked, his voice cracking as it left his dry throat.
