Just as I step back from the shop door, ready to join Eve, a scent hits me—hard.
Cinnamon and pine slam into my senses, earthy and intoxicating, knocking the air from my lungs. The scent clings, then sinks deeper, curling beneath my skin as heat rushes down my spine in a tight, burning crawl.
I don’t even know what it is … but I want to sink my teeth into it.
It’s sweet and spiced but laced with something smoky. Almost charred. Like dry wood crackling in a dying campfire, the scent seems to whisper, “Come closer …”
My eyes flutter shut as the warmth swells—consuming me, sending my pulse into a riot and igniting a sharp, twisting ache low in my stomach.
I don’t know how I know, but something, or someone, is watching me.
It should creep me out, but … it doesn’t.
Not when it feels like that hidden gaze could drag me to my knees.
There’s a soft moan brewing deep in my throat, and as the scent lingers, I swear I feel an invisible hand guiding me toward an unseen, unfathomable void. One that promises to consume me whole.
I force my eyes open and spin around. But there’s nothing there. Just my reflection in the glass door.
Something darker lurks on the edge of the cinnamon and pine. Something that makes my stomach flip and my pulse spike.
My reflection tilts her head just before the scent thickens.
It’s heavier now, almost physical.
My brain insists it’s just me and Eve.
But my body—every goddamn inch of me—screams that my eyes are full of shit.
The air becomes dense.
Electric.
Humming with a weight that feels … possessive.
And I swear—fucking swear—I feel someone’s warm, taunting breath pressing hot against my ear.
The scent nestles deeper, no longer gentle, and certain of its place against my skin.
Jesus Christ.
I need to get a grip.
This is exactly why Eve wants to set me up with someone.
I almost came fromair.
Fucking air.
With a soft shake of my head, I rip myself away from the shop and rejoin Eve.
She’s happily texting, totally unaware that I slipped into some sort of wild, scent-triggered orgasmic trance.
That euphoric aroma lingers like the echo of a dream I don’t want to wake from.
But, fuck, for a second?
Time just … stopped. Like the whole world forgot how to breathe.
