Excerpt of Hot Legs by Susan Johnson

Moonlight poured in the windows, illuminating the large
room, spotlighting her canopied bed in a silvery light
like a perfectly arranged stage set. Her pale yellow
coverlet seemed to glow, the spiral bedposts soaring
upward to the lacy canopy were gilded moon beams.
"Sorry about the mess on the floor." Her discarded clothes
were impossible to miss.

"Mirrors," he said, as if she’d not spoken, his gaze on
the wall of mirrors fronting her closets.

Men could be so focused, her inadequate housekeeping skill
ignored. And for once in her life she embraced the concept.

He’d moved into the room, his broad shouldered form
silhouetted against the light from the windows, God’s gift
to women here in her bedroom. For her. "Undress for me,"
she said.

Perhaps Willie’s talk of female power had provoked her
request. Or maybe sexually deprived for so long she simply
wanted to contemplate a beautiful, male body. More likely
she was responding to Bobby Serre with unprecedented lust
like every other woman who set eyes on him.

It took a millisecond to overcome his resistance to the
peremptory note in her voice and another millisecond for
his brain to race through the cause and effect equals
regard equation before he reached behind his neck and
turning around jerked his T-shirt over his head. Kicking
off his sandals, he pulled down the zipper on his shorts,
stripped off his shorts and boxers and stood before her in
all his glory, tanned , lean, muscled and ready for sex.

Cassie’s breath caught in her throat. There were
aphrodisiacs and aphrodisiacs and the whole beautiful
package with –that...it, that enormous, really huge,
upthrust erection was breath-taking. Swiftly sliding her
jacket off, she shimmied her skirt upward, too aroused to
take the time to unzip and discard her skirt, wanting her
pantyhose off now, this instant for immediate access to
what was sure to bring her incredible pleasure.

Selfish.

You Betcha.

Single-minded.

After seven and a half months of celibacy no actual
thought process was required.

He was walking toward her. Ohmygod it was coming closer.
She was going to hyperventilate. She was going to faint.
She was going to come just looking at it.

"Hey." a low calm voice. "Relax."

His hands covered hers, the rough warmth of his palms
spilling over on her hips, the spiking pleasure she felt
out of all proportion to the casual point of skin on skin
contact. "I’m not sure I can wait," she breathed, desire a
hard steady throbbing inside her.

"Then we won’t," he murmured.