The cold air hit his chest as Jason turned toward the door, every muscle in his body screaming at him to stay. His hand was already on the handle, the metal cool against his sweaty palm, when he felt her breath on the back of his neck.
"Leaving so soon?"
Her voice was a low, husky whisper that crawled right into his ear and settled somewhere deep in his gut. Before he could twist the knob, her hand clamped over his mouth, fingers pressing hard against his lips. The other hand snaked around his waist, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, yanking him backward.
He stumbled, off-balance, and she used his momentum to spin him around. His back hit the wall, and she was against him in an instant—body heat searing through the thin layers between them. Mira's eyes were wild, pupils blown wide, a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. Her breath came in ragged, uneven pants, and he could smell it on her: that thick, cloying sweetness that meant her heat was in full swing.
