Kezia could’ve guessed from the soapy scent wafting over her shoulder. Soap and something else. The XY factor that made some men smell so good you just wanted to lick the nearest inch of available skin.

You must be very secure in your masculinity to parade around in those budgie smugglers.”“Oh, I’m very secure.” He see-sawed the towel over his back. “And I’m happy to show you the rear view of my budgie smugglers—oh wait—you already saw it when you were checking out my ass.

You’re like this frosting.” She swiped another swirl of it on her finger, stood and leaned forward to touch it to his bottom lip. “Pretty, momentarily pleasurable, but with no real substance or sustenance.

But baby, you started this.” The hand on her hip tugged her closer, her inner thighs brushing against the smooth fabric pulled taut over his long legs.She tugged at the fingers on her hip, wriggling at the same time, desperate to escape. “And now I’m ending it.”“I’ll decide where it ends,” he said.

Then Ben’s mouth descended again and her thoughts, as fickle as tiny fish, swam out of her head. Gentle brushes of his lips turned into more insistent strokes of his mouth. Sexually frustrated widow or not, there was little doubt the man could kiss her into a melted puddle of goo.