The Devil's Own Chloe (Bistro La Bohème Series)
“Hugo’s gaze zeros in on my lips.
I wonder if he’s going to kiss me. I can’t wait for him to kiss me.
But instead, he lets go of my hands and pulls his sweater, along with his tee, over his head.
My mouth waters at the sight of his tanned torso. It’s all chiseled muscle and smooth skin with a dusting of freckles across his shoulders and a scatter of hairs over his pecs. The hair trails down to his navel and disappears under the waistband of his jeans.
My heart stops and then pounds like crazy.
What’s happening to me?
Hugo is not supposed to be my type. I’m not supposed to be into large, powerfully built men.
So why, then, am I leering?
With my eyes trained on his chest, I remove my sweater and bra faster than he can say, “Take off your sweater and bra, sweetheart.”
He doesn’t say that, of course. Instead, he takes off his shoes and socks and draws the zipper of his jeans down.
As if playing a game of Who Gets Naked First, I peel off my jeans and panties. My gaze is glued to his fly.
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