From my WIP for Magnolia Blossom THE HAUNTING OF WILTON JUNE (No release date yet but soon, I hope!)
My heroine, Jerica, is a botanist
Here ya go:
For three days they avoided one another, each telling themselves it wasn’t really avoidance as much as work that occupied their every waking moment.
Jerica knew it for the lie it was on the first day as she set out with her deliveries. From the moment Will walked out of the cottage she’d thought of little else but him.
And that kiss.
She’d analyzed it, conceptualized it, even going so far as to make a little mental chart enumerating all the ways Will’s kiss made her feel.
#1 like she was cherished.
#2 like she mattered.
#3 like she was a desirable woman.
#4 like if she’d given him the slightest prompting they would have wound up in her big brass bed spending the rest of the afternoon, evening, and night doing wild and wicked things to one another.
Her cheeks grew warm from the memory of his tongue mating with hers, sipping from it, drawing nourishment, as she printed instruction labels for the salves cooling in her workroom.
Her legs grew restless as she fantasized what his body looked like under his comfortable clothes. All that lean and lithe muscle under his shirt had felt staggering when she’d run her hands up his chest.
Her thighs shook at the remembrance of the way his erection had pressed, throbbed, and grown larger when it had been nestled against the apex of her jeans.
She berated herself when she had to start an emulsion of Slipper Elm tea twice because she’d miscalculated the right amount of elm powder and honey. She’d been picturing Will the way he looked as he’d sat across from her eating the soup and sandwiches she’d prepared. The light in his eyes had been bright, the blues in them meshing into a startling chaos of color. His lips had grown wet from sipping the soup, tiny traces of tomato-red sticking to the corners.
You need to get a grip, girl.
Once you start breaking out in an erotic sweat from the way a soup color looks on someone’s mouth, it’s time to take a break, reboot your brain, and call it a day on the naughty-thoughts-daydreaming.
Which is what she did.
Unfortunately, the moment she laid her head down on her pillow Will’s face popped into her brain again and thoughts of whether he slept in his underwear or nude raced through her mind.
She pictured both, individually, and had to throw the warm blankets off her growing-hot body.
The man simply occupied he thoughts to the point of ridiculousness.
Why, was the question plaguing her.