...It was late by the time they finished putting away the groceries. Julie crashed on one of the sectional sofas and reached for a knitted afghan. “It gets chilly here at night,” she murmured and snuggled into the cushions.

“Aye,” Colin agreed. “It can. But I always come prepared.” He stacked logs and papers in the fireplace and it wasn’t long before a hearty blaze warmed the living room. Julie sighed and closed her eyes, breathing in the heady scent of wood smoke and warm pine. She sniffed again. A pungent scent invaded her nose. She opened her eyes to find Colin sitting on the floor in front of her, two snifters of pale liquid cradled in his hands.

“Single malt Scotch.” He passed one to her. “The best to warm your insides.”

Julie raised her glass toward his. “What shall we drink to?” She felt soft and sleepy, warm and cozy. Colin’s hair in the firelight took on a scarlet hue. Flames danced in his blue eyes. His lips were full and inviting—a temptation she no longer wanted to resist.

A fire started deep inside her womb. I want you. I deserve you. Yes! She wanted him. Wanted his huge, callused hands touching her, unlocking all the secrets of her intimate places. Wanted to see his full, shaggy head buried between her thighs and drinking the juice of her sex. Wanted to see the plump package of his balls tremble when she kissed and caressed them. Most of all, she wanted to feel the force of his full-blooded, stiffness as he buried himself deep inside her.

In that instant she made up her mind. She would have him. Tonight.