She
tried not to look. She really did. But from the moment he hooked his thumbs
into the elastic waistband and began to push his shorts down, she became
incapable of not looking. The first inch revealed a line of demarcation clearer
than the Mason-Dixon Line between the shaved and au natural portions of his
body. The shortened arrow disappeared beneath the briefest pair of briefs she’d
ever seen. He turned just a fraction, and her breath caught in her lungs.
Holy
crap! His ass was bare! “That’s a—”
“Jock
strap,” he supplied as if there wasn’t anything but some elastic straps and a
scrap of fabric between her and his genitals. She watched helplessly as he
cupped his package, adjusting the mass to suit him.
His
erection strained at the stretchy red fabric. As painful as she imagined his
predicament to be, it couldn’t compare with what was going on inside her. Her
breasts were heavy with need, her nipples aching to escape the confines of her
practical cotton bra. Every nerve ending between her navel and her knees felt
like they’d been hooked up to an electrical current.
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