Building a Bad Boy

“See?” he said, his voice low and husky. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

She murmured something in the affirmative, not trusting herself to form coherent words. The pounding of her heart had escalated to a pagan beat, pulsing loudly over the piped-in music.

Nigel straightened, slowly, causing her hand to slide ever so gently off his bare head and drift down the side of his face. Her fingers touched the bristle of his unshaven face.

As he straightened to his full height, her hand slid to his chest. She paused on the thick carpet of chest hair, feeling his heat through her fingertips.

After several long moments, as though awakening from a dream, she slowly withdrew her hand and stepped back through the curtain, her last image being the big, nearly naked man whose simmering blue eyes looked at her as though he’d discovered far more than she had in that sensual interlude.

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