The Doctor's Lost-and-Found Bride
Шрифт:
This was insane. They’d crashed and burned last time round. So why couldn’t they keep their eyes off each other?
Every time his hand brushed hers as she handed him an ampoule, or he passed her a syringe, or they looked at an X-ray together, her pulse started racing—because her body still remembered the way he used to touch her: the feel of his skin sliding against hers, the roughness of the hair on his chest, the softness of his mouth as he’d kissed her awake. The scent of his skin, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and dimples appeared in his cheeks when he laughed, the way desire flared in his eyes and turned them from slate-blue to hot black whenever he looked at her.
She really had to get a grip. If this carried on for much longer, she’d go crazy.
She and Max were not an item. They were never going to be an item again. And it was about time her head got that straight.
Rosemary; Max would’ve known that scent anywhere. So Marina still used the same shampoo, then.
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