I was still hovering in the entryway when a brief knock shook the door. I flung it open to see an exhausted Smith standing on my front porch.
Bags bordered his eyes and a few days' worth of stubble lined his rugged jawline and chin. He wore dark suit pants and a light blue button-down shirt that clung to every muscle in his chiseled body.
A clean, dangerous scent floated to my nostrils, causing a raw, wet hunger to develop. Heated pleasure dispersed from my pelvis outward. A feverish flush stretched across my womb as I pulled my knees in tighter. I looked away. Just a man, Livia. Remember that.
He pursed his mouth as he traced my thighs and hips. His eyes glowed, despite his wrecked appearance. His gaze met mine. "I can explain."
I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could speak, he stepped closer and pulled me toward him.
Shame and hot desire mingled in my throat.
His firm hand pressed hard into my back, drawing me into him.
