Sometimes, characters just waltz into your head and dig in deep, demanding you to tell their story.
Dylan Keane was such a character. In the second POB boo, Aiden, Dylan entered and stole scene after scene with his wit, charm, and let’s be honest here – hotness! This little tease is from Harper Vale’s perspective and gives you an indication of just how hot he really is….
Dylan sat on a bench with his back to her, bent forward, and holding a hand weight that he studiously lifted, then dropped. On the floor in front of him, a few other weights were scattered.
Her vision zeroed in on his back when she realized he was shirtless. Those powerful muscles she’d had a pleasurable hint of when he’d held her in his arms were on full display. Corded and toned, his back was a sculptor’s masterpiece of carved-from-marble shadows and trenches. His shoulders—good Lord his shoulders! No description she’d ever read in any of her beloved romance novels came close to depicting the perfection of this man’s naked back and arms.
As he lifted the barbell in one hand, sinew and cords shifted with the movement. His upper back flexed, his skin glossy with sweat, which only served to highlight each motion.
He dropped the weight and stood in one easy, graceful move. Lifting his hands above his head, he reached toward the ceiling, extending all the way through his fingertips, then he stretched backward from his trim waist.
Harper’s pulse shot through the roof when he then bent forward and placed his palms flat on the floor in front of him giving her a perfect view of his glutes outlined through his nylon gym shorts. Perfection was a word she’d always thought bandied around way too much in her romance books, but it was the only word to fit Dylan.
Maybe perfection squared was more accurate, because when he collapsed into a squat and then lifted back up, his palms still on the floor, those toned and tight twin mounds of flesh and muscle were as gorgeous an ass as she’d ever seen – or dreamed about.
A gasp blew from her when her fingertips began to tingle and itch to touch him.
All over.
She clamped a hand over her mouth but too late discovered he’d heard her when he turned around to face her.
Good God, the front of him was even better than the back. How the hell was that even possible? Or fair?
A smattering of black, curly, shiny-with-sweat hair covered his pecs and trailed down over abs which simply couldn’t be real. The man must do a thousand sit-ups a day to have such a toned and defined six-pack. The shorts rode low along his waist, baggy over his trim hips, ending mid-thigh.
“I’m s-sorry,” she stammered. “I heard a noise and…” The words died when he reached for a towel and dragged it across his face to sop the perspiration covering it then drew it over his neck and down his chest. The insane notion to ask if she could trail her tongue over all that flesh washed through her mind.
She licked her lips, wondering how he’d…taste.
“Did you get some rest?” Dylan asked, oblivious to the raging lust coursing through her.
Harper swallowed, nodded, then managed to eke out a “Yes.”
Dylan slung the towel across his shoulders and held onto the ends. His gaze raked over her face, his forehead slatting. “You okay?”
Harper had to intentionally lift her eyes from its course down his torso, where it had stopped to take in the waistband of his low-riding gym shorts, back up to his face. She imagined her cheeks must look like ripe cherries from the thoughts running through her head about what was below that nylon.
There was a question on his face, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what he’d asked.
“Harper?”
“Hmm? Yes… I mean…what?”
With a head tick that caused some sweat to shift down his shoulders, a tiny grin bloomed in one corner of his mouth. Harper followed the droplet, hypnotized by its movement as it cascaded over his naked upper arm and trailed further down. When it landed on his wrist and settled, she licked lips that had turned to dust.
Dylan’s grin grew. Tugging the ends of the towel he took a step toward her. Harper forced her gaze back to his face. The blue in his eyes glowed, the outer edges of his irises turning a deep, dark azure.
“You know,” he said, lifting one leg over the bench, then the other as he came toward her, “I’ve found a workout works as well with relieving stress as much as a nap does.”
“You…you have?”
That damn grin.
“Yeah.”
He stopped right in front of her, all his body heat wafting over her. The scent of his sweat—pure, raw, and ridiculously male—had her fingers tingling again to rub their way up and down him, and then do it again.
“Want to give it a try?” he asked. “I could spot you.”
“Spot m—?” She stopped short when he dragged a finger over her upper arm. Even through the fabric of her shirt it felt like the most seductive of skin-on-skin caresses. The little air she had left in her lungs helped keep her from passing out at the exquisite sensation of his fingers on her. When he palmed the circumference and gently squeezed, she truly felt as if she might drop to the floor in a dead faint, ravaged by want.
“You’ve got pretty decent muscle tone,” he said. “A little daily work could add some definition. Not make you cut, per se. But add a little…heft.” His free hand circled her other arm and held on fast. “You’re small boned so you wouldn’t want to bulk up what you have. Defining it would be good, though.”
Perspiration sprouted across his brow again, a drop sliding down his temple to his jaw. Harper swallowed as her eyes tracked the moisture.
Ever so slowly Dylan pulled her in closer. Consumed by his scent, his touch, the absolute beauty of his mouth, she pressed her unshod feet to the floor and lifted up on her toes. She wanted that mouth on hers, needed it, like she needed her next breath to stay alive.
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Peggy Jaeger, Author 