Wicked
Melissa Stratton, Robby Apples Pic(s)
I see him before he sees me, lounging in the sun on a nearby chaise. He’s shirtless and bronzed, his muscles rippling as he stretches out his arms. As I approach, he leans back, exposing the taut skin of his abdomen. I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look up from my book until I hear him clear his throat. When I finally raise my gaze, he’s watching me with a playful grin. Hi there, he says in a low voice. You’re looking particularly sexy today. I blush and try to play it cool as I flip through the pages of my book. But ide, my heart is racing. He leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. So, he beg, what do you think? I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. Think about what? I manage to say. About us. He nods toward the chaise next to him. You wanna join me? For a moment, I hesitate. But then I shrug off my reservations and slide onto the couch beside him. His arm drapes across the back of the chaise, drawing me closer to his warmth. As he leans in, I feel his breath on my neck. So, he murmurs agat my skin, what do you think?
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