Addicted

Was he still furious?

The living room and the hallway soared past her vision. When he reached his bedroom, he lowered her to a foot above the bed and let go. He was already working her panties and skirt over her leather boots before she’d settled from the bounce on the mattress. He seemed fixed and determined.

By the time he’d grabbed the hemline of her blouse and jerked it over her head without unbuttoning it, flinging it onto the floor carelessly, Kaz realized with a thrill of excitement that he wasn’t mad at her.

He was in a fever pitch of arousal.

He whipped off his flannel shirt and tore his T-shirt over his head, exposing a broad chest with a smattering of dark hair and powerful, flexing shoulder and arm muscles. He bent to tear at his laces, kicking off one boot impatiently. She started when he kicked and the other leather hiking boot hit the wall with a thud.