Hot diggedy, he smelled good. The same cologne as her brother, she’d guess, except on Nash it smelled…sexy. Definitely not an innocent scent. It was as though someone had taken all the testosterone in the world, all the sexiness and…no.
This was Nash. Her supervisor for the next two days.
She inhaled involuntarily. Yep, totally different than on her brother. On Nash, the scent was as though Daniel Craig and Ryan Gosling had morphed into one megasexy being that contained their appeal as well as the pull of a dreamy accent such as Pierce Brosnan’s and the primal ferocity of Wolverine.
All wrapped into one man. One scent.
Completely dangerous.
And her body had noticed. Was definitely reacting. Knees weak and jelly-like. Pulse throbbing. Clammy anticipation swinging through her nerve endings. Check, check, checkity-check. Her body was gearing up in a way that was similar to the primal “give it to me”’ call of the wild. If she were a rhesus monkey, her butt cheeks would be a shocking red right now.
Ew. Not a sexy thought. And now she’d never be able to inhale around her brother without feeling incredibly uncomfortable.
Great. Thanks a lot, Nash Leham. You big monkey bottom.
* * *
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