This Year's Black
“— Lynda Carter Ryder couldn’t close the door to the suite fast enough. With her brain screaming “Escape!” she’d hightailed it back so fast she’d left her shoes in the courtyard. So what if she wanted to double dip with the hottest man she’d ever had a one-night stand with? That didn’t mean she was going to. The knee-erasing need was just a pre-hangover from some crazy, volcano-blessed ceremony on a tropical island paradise.
And why, exactly, that made her want to cry or punch a wall wasn’t ...something she wanted to think about right now.
Wanting to get as much space as possible between herself and the evening’s events, she untied the filmy sarong from around her neck. It slid down her body, caressing her taut nipples and narrow hips like the reverent touch of a man’s hands. And damn her black soul, she wished it was Devin’s fingers trailing across her flushed skin.
The material puddled at her feet, trapping her in its mocking, cheerful circle.MoreLess
And why, exactly, that made her want to cry or punch a wall wasn’t ...something she wanted to think about right now.
Wanting to get as much space as possible between herself and the evening’s events, she untied the filmy sarong from around her neck. It slid down her body, caressing her taut nipples and narrow hips like the reverent touch of a man’s hands. And damn her black soul, she wished it was Devin’s fingers trailing across her flushed skin.
The material puddled at her feet, trapping her in its mocking, cheerful circle.MoreLess
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