ripped muscle at a time, until…
Yowza.
Full frontal access. Yep. Even from the distance separating them, she easily made out the man had been blessed in the penis department. He had both width and length. Still, his face remained obscured as he stood tall enough that the window covering blocked her view from the shoulders up.
Damn. Maybe the dude was butt ugly and imagining the God hidden in the hut was better than truly knowing. She didn’t need another long-distance or mystery someone. She wanted the real McCoy. A man to touch, smell, and ride like she was a rodeo queen.
Someone to curl up with on rainy day and zone out with to old black-and-white movies. A soul mate to share her dreams with and someone to lean on when life got touchy.
Almost as important, a man who could make her laugh over the many “spills” life threw her way.
For now she’d have to be content with fantasy, and she didn’t need to see Mr. Sexy’s face for dreaming. Her lids drifted shut as she imagined how those muscles of his would come in handy for lifting. She peeped toward the body in the window.
Yeah, her ass against the wall…her body in his arms. Her skin tingled in anticipation of her thoughts. Oh and stamina, yeah, she bet he had lots of stamina and would go all… The man left the window, and when the small porch light came she freaked and took off. As she fled, a root in the path caught her foot and brought her down.
Hard. She wore dirt, she smelled dirt, she ate—dirt. Her fingers clawed into the earthen ground in her haste to get her ass up and moving.
Scrambling to make sure she remained out of sight in the event the porch light proved a sign the Mr. Sexy occupant was about to step out, she hobbled herself back up and limped fast as possible down the path. She didn’t even stop to grab her flip-flop, which had flown off when she’d fallen. Nope. Time to get her ass back to safety. She didn’t pause until she whizzed through the door, gasping for breath and ready to explain to her roomies where’d she been.
And lie about what she’d been up to.
Chapter Thirteen
As had become standard on this trip, she’d walked in and found herself alone. No need to explain anything to anyone.
Joy.
Her shins showed the brutality of her fall. Though the island’s ground for the most part was soft, a rock or root had managed to scrape the skin on both knees. Shower time.
She tossed her clothes in the area the maids knew to pick up for washing. Twenty minutes later she reached for a towel.
“Are you shitting me?” she squeaked, realizing the rack was empty. She’d made sure her clothes ended up in the right hamper for washing with housekeeping. Checking to make sure her deadbeat roommates hadn’t used all the towels had never crossed her mind. Hell, they were rarely ever around.
Images of P.J.’s two-towel-a-day habit, one for hair and one for body, floated back.
“Damn you, P.J.,” she sputtered to the empty hut.
Cracking the bathroom door open, she peeped into the bedroom. She’d left the door open, but silence reigned, and her pajamas sat on the foot of the bed. One quick dash. Hell, they were all like family anyway.
One-two-three.
She bolted for her clothes. The moment she passed the opened doorway, she saw them. Her roommates. All of them.
Brakes be damned, her heels dug, then flipped right out from under her. She plopped naked, on her ass like a baby deer testing its legs the first time, straight in front of her roommates. Like family. Yep, they howled with laughter as she slipped and slid her way on her bum to her nightclothes.
Mortified much?
P.J. shut the door on the guys’ laughter, appeared to fight her own snorts, and sprawled across her unused bed.
“Sorry, but if you’d seen your face. Priceless, girlfriend.” P.J. glowed, her newfound happiness at finally being with Morgan evident in her expression.
“If I owned the ability to zap myself home and not face anyone else right now, I would,”
Yowza.
Full frontal access. Yep. Even from the distance separating them, she easily made out the man had been blessed in the penis department. He had both width and length. Still, his face remained obscured as he stood tall enough that the window covering blocked her view from the shoulders up.
Damn. Maybe the dude was butt ugly and imagining the God hidden in the hut was better than truly knowing. She didn’t need another long-distance or mystery someone. She wanted the real McCoy. A man to touch, smell, and ride like she was a rodeo queen.
Someone to curl up with on rainy day and zone out with to old black-and-white movies. A soul mate to share her dreams with and someone to lean on when life got touchy.
Almost as important, a man who could make her laugh over the many “spills” life threw her way.
For now she’d have to be content with fantasy, and she didn’t need to see Mr. Sexy’s face for dreaming. Her lids drifted shut as she imagined how those muscles of his would come in handy for lifting. She peeped toward the body in the window.
Yeah, her ass against the wall…her body in his arms. Her skin tingled in anticipation of her thoughts. Oh and stamina, yeah, she bet he had lots of stamina and would go all… The man left the window, and when the small porch light came she freaked and took off. As she fled, a root in the path caught her foot and brought her down.
Hard. She wore dirt, she smelled dirt, she ate—dirt. Her fingers clawed into the earthen ground in her haste to get her ass up and moving.
Scrambling to make sure she remained out of sight in the event the porch light proved a sign the Mr. Sexy occupant was about to step out, she hobbled herself back up and limped fast as possible down the path. She didn’t even stop to grab her flip-flop, which had flown off when she’d fallen. Nope. Time to get her ass back to safety. She didn’t pause until she whizzed through the door, gasping for breath and ready to explain to her roomies where’d she been.
And lie about what she’d been up to.
Chapter Thirteen
As had become standard on this trip, she’d walked in and found herself alone. No need to explain anything to anyone.
Joy.
Her shins showed the brutality of her fall. Though the island’s ground for the most part was soft, a rock or root had managed to scrape the skin on both knees. Shower time.
She tossed her clothes in the area the maids knew to pick up for washing. Twenty minutes later she reached for a towel.
“Are you shitting me?” she squeaked, realizing the rack was empty. She’d made sure her clothes ended up in the right hamper for washing with housekeeping. Checking to make sure her deadbeat roommates hadn’t used all the towels had never crossed her mind. Hell, they were rarely ever around.
Images of P.J.’s two-towel-a-day habit, one for hair and one for body, floated back.
“Damn you, P.J.,” she sputtered to the empty hut.
Cracking the bathroom door open, she peeped into the bedroom. She’d left the door open, but silence reigned, and her pajamas sat on the foot of the bed. One quick dash. Hell, they were all like family anyway.
One-two-three.
She bolted for her clothes. The moment she passed the opened doorway, she saw them. Her roommates. All of them.
Brakes be damned, her heels dug, then flipped right out from under her. She plopped naked, on her ass like a baby deer testing its legs the first time, straight in front of her roommates. Like family. Yep, they howled with laughter as she slipped and slid her way on her bum to her nightclothes.
Mortified much?
P.J. shut the door on the guys’ laughter, appeared to fight her own snorts, and sprawled across her unused bed.
“Sorry, but if you’d seen your face. Priceless, girlfriend.” P.J. glowed, her newfound happiness at finally being with Morgan evident in her expression.
“If I owned the ability to zap myself home and not face anyone else right now, I would,”
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