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Every subtle pause, every hesitant step confirmed it: It’s my scent. He can’t stand it.
In that instant, he learned a rule he would carry with him for years: never allow Mike to smell him.
Or:
the rule breaks when a sudden heat flares and the suppressants run out.
“You smell so good,” Mike murmured, voice rough, the words slipping out like something pulled from instinct rather than thought. Will shivered at that, the sound settling deep, his body reacting before his mind could catch up, leaning closer, pressing in, chasing the warmth without hesitation.