Rowena said it was just a damn perfume. It smelled like nothing, no matter how much you sprayed on. No smell, not even a whiff. A personal reminder to never trust her with worthwhile gifts after saving her ass again.

You were going about your business next to Dean in his bed, scrolling mindlessly for a new case. In your head, you were cursing Rowena.

Dean, however, could smell the perfume. Unbeknownst to you, it was a pheromone perfume that was driving him wild. His eyes roved hungrily over your body, admiring the rack that was hidden underneath his loose undershirt that you’d stolen. How your thighs looked in those sweatpants. He wanted to taste you, to devour you.

But he valiantly returned his gaze to his laptop, licking his lips and biting down on the bottom one.