![]() Run a blue disposable razor slowly up the length of each one until all the hair is sliced off. Smooth a bar of Dove soap over my breasts and between the apex of my thighs. Concentrate on my task, scrubbing myself clean. The thought sends my stomach surging into a dramatic roll, nerves causing me to snap the bottle shut. Mmm, I get to curl up with him later and do whatever I want to him. Lifting his red bottle of liquid body gel from the shelf, I snap the top open, inhaling the masculine scent. Daydream about it while the mirrors in his bathroom fog from shower steam and I scrub myself clean under the spray of Sterling Wade’s shower. Run my palms down his smooth shoulder blades slowly. I want to plow my hands through his neatly shorn mop. Or hook the tip of one finger inside his collar and trail it along his warm skin. ![]() The tight fit of his dark shirt and the promise that its fabric would be velvety soft beneath my fingers if I had the nerve to caress it. The freshly trimmed hair at Rowdy’s nape. I love everything about that spot on his body, the straining muscles of his trapezius and deltoids. ![]() ![]() To me, it’s the sexist part of a man-the delicious slope at the back of their neck where their shoulders meet. ![]()
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