Wild Child: A Novel by Molly O'Keefe

Author:Molly O'Keefe [O'Keefe, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Contemporary Women, Humorous, Erotica
ISBN: 0345533712
Google: 4asq-jEvPEUC
Amazon: B00CNQ7HKU
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2013-10-29T00:00:00+00:00

Monica watched, her mouth dry, her hands sweaty, as Jackson reached up and yanked off his tie, different from yesterday’s. Yellow. It took a pretty masculine man to look sexy taking off a yellow tie—and he did. And he was. He opened the first few buttons of his white shirt and she caught a glimpse of his tan neck, the tendons in that neck, that divot under his Adam’s apple. It was as if she memorized it in a glance. If she had to pick his neck out of a lineup, she’d be able to do it, after just that hungry moment.

And then he reached behind his head and an inch of his belly showed, a ripple of muscles, a thin line of blond-brown hair disappearing under his belt. He grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull it off and then the shirt lifted, revealing another inch of his body, more muscles, a stomach of them.

And then his shirt was off and she was dry-mouthed at the sight of him.

“I thought I’d put on a show,” he said. “For you, this time.”

Well, he was starting off right, that was for sure. He had a swimmer’s body, tan and muscled. His khaki pants hung low on lean hips, and he put his hands to his belt buckle and paused. “You’re … ah … getting to the good stuff,” she said, waving her hand at him to keep going.

“Sit back,” he told her and pointed to the bed, which she nearly jumped into, quickly stacking her book notes and happily setting them aside for the night. His chuckle followed her and she was delighted in her excitement, delighted that he was entertained.

So far, so good. Bracing her back against the headboard, she stretched her legs out in front of her and crossed them at the ankles. “You may proceed,” she said.

It was the most perfunctory striptease she’d ever seen, not that she’d seen all that many. But she certainly knew how to do one. He didn’t tease, he didn’t wink or bend over. She didn’t think he was even flexing his muscles.

He just slowly, his eyes on her, revealed himself. His long arms, masculine and dusted with blond hair. The wrists that were all bone and tendon. She liked his wrists. His handsome feet.

“Your second toe is longer than the first,” she said.

“I am evolutionarily superior.”

“A couple hundred years ago you’d be burned at the stake.”

“You are not helping the show,” he said, deadpan. Which made her laugh. Hard.

He took off his pants, the waistband of his light-blue boxers riding low on all the muscles of his stomach. Her laughter dried right up.

“You …” she whispered, her eyes following that light trail of hair to the obvious erection under the cotton. “Swim?”

“I do.”

He left the boxers on and crawled up from the end of the bed toward her. He grabbed her ankle and with one strong yank, he pulled her down flat on the bed. It was slightly caveman, and she totally dug it.

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