Lillian Feisty

How strange. Now the eucalyptus smell was getting stronger and mixing with something else. Him. Spicy and unique.

She could smell the coffee with cream he’d had earlier and, yes, he’d had a waffle for breakfast. And hash browns with pepper but no ketchup.

She put a hand to her forehead. “Oh shit!”

“What?”

“It’s getting worse!”

“What’s getting worse?”

“My state. Or condition. Or whatever you want to call it.”

“Your condition?”

“Yes! I think the medicine is making it worse!”

He pulled a cell phone out of his blazer pocket. “I’ll call an EMT.”

“No, that’s not necessary. It’s just that I’m an Aromatherapian.” Okay, it looked like she was telling him after all. Hopefully he had an open mind.

“What the hell is an Aromatherapian?”

“It means I react very strongly to scent. Antihistamines must heighten the condition. Huh. Who knew?”

She took a step closer to him. Blood pounded in her ears as she inhaled deeply through her nose. Peppery eucalyptus coated her nostrils, her throat and her mouth.

And then desire, pure and strong, settled deep in her belly. She took another step toward him.

He took a step back. “What are you doing?” He clutched the phone to his chest as if the gadget would protect him.

His deep voice sent a shiver up her spine.

“I asked you to take a shower. I mean, I guess it doesn’t matter. It would have happened eventually.”

The wall stopped him. “What would have happened?”

“I’m reacting to your pheromones. I didn’t understand at first because it’s never happened before. I mean, there was that one time in college, but that was purely sex. This is deeper. Much deeper.”

“Okay, obviously the drugs are making you even nuttier than what I suspect is your normal state.”

Closing in on him, she shook her head. “I’m not a nut.”

He slid his phone back into his pocket. “I beg to differ.”

“I’m not, I swear. I’m an Aromatherapian.”

He closed his eyes. “Oh good. I feel so much better.”

Mason was wondering if he was the crazy one. He couldn’t believe he had a hard-on the size of the fucking Empire State Building. She was crazy. Had to be. But his cock didn’t seem to care at all about that.

If only she weren’t such a tight little package. Petite body with high, perky tits. Red hair that reminded him of old-school movie stars. And huge blue eyes that he could stare into for hours.

Stare into her eyes for hours? Where had that thought come from? He shook his head.

“Mr. Mason?”

“It’s just Mason.”

“Detective Mason?

“No, Detective O’Malley.”

“Okay. Mason?”

“Yes?”

“Please kiss me. I want to see what happens.”

Christ, so did he. He wanted to push his way into her mouth, see what she tasted like. He shook his head but leaned down a little.

She moved closer, so close those damn perky breasts of hers nearly touched his chest. “Just one kiss,” she breathed.

Then she was right there. She went on her tiptoes and he felt her warm breath on his neck. “Please,” she whispered in his ear.

“Fuck,” he growled and pulled her mouth to his. Usually he took his time kissing—usually he knew a girl more than ten minutes before locking lips—but now he didn’t hold back. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and satisfaction settled in his belly when she melted against him. She wrapped her hands around his head and pressed herself against his chest. Their kiss became deeper, stronger. Erotic in a way he’d never experienced.

She was tugging at his T-shirt, lifting it up to expose his belly, his torso. When she pulled away to look at him he took in her swollen lips and flushed skin. His cock jerked in response to her obvious arousal.

“I need to smell you.”