Chapter One
Now that had to be the most scrumptious ass Anna Deveau had ever set eyes on.
Tight.
Defined.
And downright squeezable.
The warm autumn sun beat down on Anna as she swiped her tongue over her dry bottom lip and zeroed in on the delectable male before her. Cripes, that man had buttocks like none other. Firm, ripe, ready for the picking.
Oh my…
As a shiver of awareness tingled deep between her legs, derailing her hard-fought ability to think straight, Anna took extra care in negotiating the cracked and pitted walkway in her thin-soled flip-flops.
Pamina kept pace beside her—the mystical-like woman who’d hired Anna’s firm to create fantasy-inspired theme rooms in the rundown Victorian inn situated on the outskirts of Mason Creek. As they strolled along the dilapidated path, Lindsay, a childhood friend and fellow colleague, caught up with them, and they all made their way to the masonry van in the driveway—where said scrumptious buns stood waiting. With the back doors spread wide open, Mr. Sex in a Pair of Jeans braced his muscular thighs against the bumper and leaned forward, presenting her with a perfect, unobstructed view of his magnificent backside.
Yummy…
His gluteus maximus muscles were perfect, all right. Perfect for pinching, or grabbing hold of and palming while he made sweet passionate love to her. A romantic at heart, Anna envisioned those strong hands of his removing her clothes, slowly, methodically, taking the utmost care with her body. Her thighs quivered as she gifted herself a moment to play out the sexy scenario—gentle fingers touching her private, intimate parts with purpose, the rough pad of his thumb working her sensitive nub into orgasmic bliss, his warm, wet mouth buried in the crook of her sensitive neck as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. A small rapturous moan threatened to crawl out of her throat, and she promptly choked it back as the erotic slideshow played out in her mind’s eye.
Taking her by surprise, small beads of moisture broke out on her forehead, and she swiped at them, but the dampness had nothing at all to do with the hot sunshine beating down on the quaint town, and everything to do with the pact she’d made with her friends. A pact she was suddenly questioning the intelligence of. Damn, it had been so long since she’d engaged in an intimate relationship that her body had turned mutinous. Deep between her legs she felt libidinous, needy and hungry.
Positively horny.
Which had her questioning the logic behind their pact, and begged the question—exactly why had they all renounced the opposite sex again?
“What do you think, Anna?” Pamina asked.
Anna turned toward the tall, willowy woman with the knowledgeable green eyes, and struggled to comprehend the question. As Pamina stared at her, obviously awaiting a response, she shifted Abra—her very overweight cat—in her long, lithe arms as the ornery feline hissed and swatted at an imaginary fly.
Lindsay shot her a questioning glance. “Yeah, what is your opinion on it, Anna?” Her friend’s brow furrowed in concentration as she carefully picked her way forward in a pair of three-inch spiked heels that only a wild brazen woman like Lindsay could pull off.
Not understanding the question and feeling a bit flustered by the sexual energy zinging through her bloodstream, Anna tucked a short blonde lock behind her ear and blinked her mind into focus.
“Anna?” Lindsay asked again.
Just then one of the many skilled workers on assignment at the inn crossed in front of her, and she nearly bumped into him.
“I, uh.” Goodness she’d been so caught up in lusting after Mr. Sex in a Pair of Jeans, completely preoccupied with the delicious images of his hard body climbing over hers, that she hadn’t been paying any attention to their conversation, or to all the other laborers milling about in an effort to return the inn to its natural, beautiful state. Truthfully, it was hard to believe
Now that had to be the most scrumptious ass Anna Deveau had ever set eyes on.
Tight.
Defined.
And downright squeezable.
The warm autumn sun beat down on Anna as she swiped her tongue over her dry bottom lip and zeroed in on the delectable male before her. Cripes, that man had buttocks like none other. Firm, ripe, ready for the picking.
Oh my…
As a shiver of awareness tingled deep between her legs, derailing her hard-fought ability to think straight, Anna took extra care in negotiating the cracked and pitted walkway in her thin-soled flip-flops.
Pamina kept pace beside her—the mystical-like woman who’d hired Anna’s firm to create fantasy-inspired theme rooms in the rundown Victorian inn situated on the outskirts of Mason Creek. As they strolled along the dilapidated path, Lindsay, a childhood friend and fellow colleague, caught up with them, and they all made their way to the masonry van in the driveway—where said scrumptious buns stood waiting. With the back doors spread wide open, Mr. Sex in a Pair of Jeans braced his muscular thighs against the bumper and leaned forward, presenting her with a perfect, unobstructed view of his magnificent backside.
Yummy…
His gluteus maximus muscles were perfect, all right. Perfect for pinching, or grabbing hold of and palming while he made sweet passionate love to her. A romantic at heart, Anna envisioned those strong hands of his removing her clothes, slowly, methodically, taking the utmost care with her body. Her thighs quivered as she gifted herself a moment to play out the sexy scenario—gentle fingers touching her private, intimate parts with purpose, the rough pad of his thumb working her sensitive nub into orgasmic bliss, his warm, wet mouth buried in the crook of her sensitive neck as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. A small rapturous moan threatened to crawl out of her throat, and she promptly choked it back as the erotic slideshow played out in her mind’s eye.
Taking her by surprise, small beads of moisture broke out on her forehead, and she swiped at them, but the dampness had nothing at all to do with the hot sunshine beating down on the quaint town, and everything to do with the pact she’d made with her friends. A pact she was suddenly questioning the intelligence of. Damn, it had been so long since she’d engaged in an intimate relationship that her body had turned mutinous. Deep between her legs she felt libidinous, needy and hungry.
Positively horny.
Which had her questioning the logic behind their pact, and begged the question—exactly why had they all renounced the opposite sex again?
“What do you think, Anna?” Pamina asked.
Anna turned toward the tall, willowy woman with the knowledgeable green eyes, and struggled to comprehend the question. As Pamina stared at her, obviously awaiting a response, she shifted Abra—her very overweight cat—in her long, lithe arms as the ornery feline hissed and swatted at an imaginary fly.
Lindsay shot her a questioning glance. “Yeah, what is your opinion on it, Anna?” Her friend’s brow furrowed in concentration as she carefully picked her way forward in a pair of three-inch spiked heels that only a wild brazen woman like Lindsay could pull off.
Not understanding the question and feeling a bit flustered by the sexual energy zinging through her bloodstream, Anna tucked a short blonde lock behind her ear and blinked her mind into focus.
“Anna?” Lindsay asked again.
Just then one of the many skilled workers on assignment at the inn crossed in front of her, and she nearly bumped into him.
“I, uh.” Goodness she’d been so caught up in lusting after Mr. Sex in a Pair of Jeans, completely preoccupied with the delicious images of his hard body climbing over hers, that she hadn’t been paying any attention to their conversation, or to all the other laborers milling about in an effort to return the inn to its natural, beautiful state. Truthfully, it was hard to believe
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