Her lime-green robe had slid down over her shoulders and now gaped open. Her sash slipped unnoticed to the floor. He expected to catch a glimpse of some lacy negligee made to incite a man's lust. He got much more.
Jesus, she was perfect.
No fabric marred the endless curves of warm, gilded flesh. Her breasts were lush and made for a man's hands, her n*****s the color of a ripe strawberry that begged for a man's tongue. Her hips formed the ancient hourglass figure artists based fantasies on instead of sharp bones that dictated the current fashion. Miles of long legs. A tiny scrap of fire engine red panties was the only thing that blocked his view.
The words died in his throat. His breath stopped, then rushed out like he'd been punched in the gut. She screwed up her face to keep yelling, b
