One In A Million

Nash groaned as heat and pressure poured into him.

It was bad enough he’d had a restless night filled with erotic dreams of his hostess. But there, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, Stephanie stood in the doorway, a piece of sandpaper in each hand. Nash watched as she reached up and rubbed at a spot well above her head. Her T-shirt rode up, exposing a bit of stomach. What was it about this woman and her belly?

“You need a ladder,” he said, surprising her.

Stephanie jumped and squeaked, then glared at him. “I swear I’m going to buy you a collar with a bell and make you wear it.”

“You’ll have to wrestle me into submission first.”

He’d meant the comment as a joke, but at his words, her eyes darkened and awareness sharpened her features. Tension crackled in the empty room.

So his attraction wasn’t all one-sided, he thought with satisfaction.