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.