Clearing my throat, I press my hands into his stomach . . . Oh, bad mistake. Such a horrible mistake. Abs. So many of them. I know about his abs, everyone on this earth knows about them. They are perfectly defined into little nuggets and I’m touching them. My hands are actually wandering around his stomach, feeling them through his shirt. Stop it! Stop molesting the man, Melony. “Feel something you like?” he asks, looking down at me. Crap.
