7
Fucking hell.
A headache slammed against his temples so hard it made his stomach turn over.
The only thing that wasn’t hell was having Kat in his arms when he woke up.
It was pure heaven. She felt so good, her lush curves pressed against him, the scent of her floral shampoo clinging to the rich brown locks of her hair, which he wanted to wrap around his fist as he tugged her head back for a kiss. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling that feminine scent. How could she smell so delicious? He wanted to devour her, to taste her in so many places, to imprint her scent and taste upon himself so he could never forget it. Yet, what he felt was deeper, too, had always been, it seemed, from the moment he’d met her. Tristan couldn’t shake the thought that he would never want another woman a
