Wildfire Honey: Enemies to Lovers, Small Town Romance
Jenna Jax
Until I make her lick honey from my fingers and she forgets we're enemies.
Wren Cartwright hates me on sight.
I stole her inheritance, and she's making me earn every beekeeping lesson with icy glares and sharp comments.
Except when honey is involved, there's nothing cold about the way she looks at me.
She feeds me samples on a spoon, while I imagine tasting them on her throat instead.
When I capture her wrist and bring her honey-slicked fingers to my mouth, her pupils blow wide.
"Is this part of the lesson?" I ask. "No," she whispers, "this is—"
I kiss the words away, backing her against the wall to taste honey on her lips, in the hollow of her throat, everywhere she'll let me.
She gasps my name and yanks me closer.
"This doesn't change anything," she says, breathless.
"It changes everything," I prove with my mouth.
Because I came for the inheritance but I'm staying for her.
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