How good would Flynn be in bed – a real bed, with crisp, clean sheets? She’d seen and handled enough of his body to create a solid mental picture of him naked. Very solid. Honed, strong, with a dusting of blond hair on his tanned chest and maybe a few tattoos. Long muscular legs, a sculpted butt, a narrow waist sliding into a broad back that would undulate under her fingers as he moved against her.
You’d better touch me before something happens spontaneously that makes me look embarrassingly desperate.” “Really?” He lowered just close enough for his chest to graze the fabric covering her bra, squeezing a squeak from her throat. “I’d like to watch that. You’re making abstinence sound fun.
She turned her head, and the skin of her cheek caught the moonlight, smooth as satin. Tough and beautiful. He grimaced. Tu agis sans passion et sans haine. You act without passion and without hatred. He'd recited the line every day of his nineteen years in the Legion, but it'd never resonated as strongly as it did now.