She ran her gaze over his chest with frank appreciation. Then he shivered, realizing he hadn't really considered the weather. It was forty-five degrees max, but Chloe was giving him a go-on gesture with her hand. "All I have left is my pants," he said. "Yes, please." "It's cold, Chloe." She tilted her head. "Are you worried about shrinkage?" Well, he was now. -Chloe and Sawyer

He was in uniform, gun at his hip, expression dialed to Dirty Harry, and just looking at him had something pinging low in Chloe’s belly.

Smile. it's the second best thing you can do with your lips.

You had a package. It was torn, so I looked in.” She lifted one of a stack of firefighter calendars, with his own mug and half-naked body on the cover. “Nice,” she said, a ghost of a smile crossing her lips. “Mr. 2008.” He bit back a sigh. “It’s for charity.” “And you definitely contributed.

Matt?" "Yeah?" "You okay?" "Working on it." His voice sounded unusually tight. "I thought you said you did this a lot." "Yeah. I do. But apparently not with anyone I'm wildly attracted to." This caused certain reactions in her body that were best not experienced in mixed company. "It's just panties," she finally whispered. "And they're really great panties," Matt agreed. "But it's not the panties, Amy. It's you.

It was not enough. It was too much. It was everything.

Why, so you can charm my panties off again?