“Absolute magic!”

—Helena Hunting, New York Times bestselling author

Insatiable, an all-new fun and flirty friends to lovers romance from USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow is available now!

Sawyer?” I said in disbelief. Breaking into a huge grin, she started to run. I was still standing there in shock when she barreled into me, throwing her arms around my neck. She smelled fucking fantastic. Feminine, sweet, delectable. “What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to hug her back without getting sweat or paint on her. “I thought you didn’t get in until Thursday.” “I changed my ticket.” She let go just enough to smile up at me impishly. “I’m glad to see you too.” I laughed. “I’m glad to see you. You just surprised me is all.” “That was my plan.” She stepped back, and I figured my odor was probably repulsing her. “I stink, sorry. I went for a run earlier and I never showered. Then I painted the garage.” “I never mind the smell of sweat. It means hard work.” She brightened. “Will you run tomorrow? I’d love to go with you. “Sure. We can run tomorrow. I’m off again.” “Great! Although I’m probably way out of shape.” She made a face. “My work schedule is so crazy, I don’t run as much as I used to.” “You look great,” I told her. And it was true—she did look great. Maybe not quite as skinny as the last time I’d seen her, but the added curves looked good on her. My eyes wandered without my brain’s permission to her slightly fuller chest and rounder hips. Quickly, I attempted to look at her face again, but then my gaze lingered on her mouth. I remembered what it had looked like the other night in my fantasy as she’d wrapped her lips around my cock and moaned like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted. My dick twitched beneath my running shorts, and I cleared my throat. “You’ve got a favorite murder? Is there something I need to know?” She glanced down at her shirt and smiled. “It’s a podcast about true crime. I’m addicted.” “Never heard of it.” A sound of exasperation escaped her. “You live under a rock! I can’t believe you’re still not on social media.” “Yes, you can.” “Okay, I can, but it makes it really hard to stalk you.” I shook my head. “People like you are exactly why I don’t want to be on social media.” She hit me on the shoulder. “I’m kidding! I just want to keep up with your life. I miss you.” “So come home more often. Talk to my face.” She grinned. “I do like seeing your face. Want to go grab a beer? Maybe some food?” “Sure.”