Eager to see what caused the racket, the dogs smashed into the back of my legs as I tried to navigate the hall. Outside, a huge Honda motorbike pulled into my carport. I don’t like bikes, but this one appeared so powerful my nipples hardened.
My dogs ran around the bike, sniffing the new beast. In appreciation of the exotic smell, Jasen, my cocker spaniel, lifted his leg and sprinkled the back tire. Tyreal pulled off his helmet, smoothed his jet hair, looked around, and shook his head.
“Sorry …”
“No, biggie. Cute shorts.” His fingers tugged the tab of his leather jacket’s zip. Earth slowed her spin. In slow-mo action, inch by delicious inch, the silver teeth parted to reveal stripper like crevices and bulges concealed in a tight white t-shirt.
Total, girl see hot man lust filled every body cavity I own and a few more. Scared I’d start to resemble Asha eyeing a steak, I swallowed and quickly wiped my mouth in case dribble had escaped. A man might find a salivating new co-worker a tad—desperate.
“You okay, Angel. You seem a bit dazed.”
“Is that deliberate?”
“What?”
“The tight white thing that’s a size or three too small.” A surreptitious foot shuffle shifted me forward to see if he’d painted on the shirt. I thought the bike hot, it had nothing on the rider.
“It was clean.” He turned, put the jacket over the bike seat, stepped over it, and grinned. Conceited ass.
Fabulous ass.
Actually his was more a, fab-u-lust-ass.
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