He was freshly showered, his hair wild and messy, but still damp around the edges. He had on midnight black jeans that sharpened the contrasting redness of his perfectly tight T-shirt, a shirt that teasingly showcased every curved layer of his broad shoulders and emphasized amazing pecs that any male model would kill for. But it wasn’t his smoking body that held my attention. It was the eyes. They practically . . . simmered . . . as he held my thigh. A crooked grin was fixed on his lips as he studied me.
