How could he be more screwed-up than she was? He looked at her again and sighed. ‘Well better now that later,’ he thought.“Did you know my name ...s actually Braudon?”“No,” she said, wondering what the significance was.“I got the, what you call a nickname, of Bray when I was fifteen. Have you ever heard the noise a stallion makes when he is on a mare?”“Umm, no, I don’t think so.” She was getting confused with the change in topic.“Well, at home, they say that they bray.”“You bray when you come?”. But more. Something of his base scent that just said, Kevin."I could do worse." Oh?" I said, "Planning on mucking out the stalls?" Hardly." He said with a grin I was beginning to know well. "I could smell like you." Me? I already smell of all of that." I protested."Hm."He was kissing my neck now, once again pushing the strap off of my shoulder, only he didn't stop there."I do." I said meaning the scent of flowers.One of his hands was sliding up my thigh, creating delicious shivers over my body,. More

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