His Smile Was Sexy And Warned Of

I Wrinkled My Nose, Trying To Figure Out What He Smelled Like. Not Cigarettes. Something Richer, Fouler. Cigars.

It Was A Smile That Spelled Trouble. With A Promise.

Everything Had Come Into Sharp Focus : His Smooth Words, His Black, Glinting Eyes, His Broad Experience With Lies, Seduction, Women. I'd Fallen In Love With The Devil.

It Didn't Escape Me That He Couldn't Seem To Stop Finding Reasons To Touch Me. Nor Did I Miss That I Didn't Want Him To Stop.

The Trouble Was, My Feelings For Patch Weren't Harmless.