First off, the scenery:
Okay, now that I've set the scene, here's a glimpse into my August 9th release, Sex On Summer Sabbatical, the first sexy book in my Seasoned Women series:
Who knew it would so hard to get a twenty-something man to have sex?
Forced by her employer to take a three month sabbatical, workaholic Tori Warren makes a checklist of things to accomplish which will make the time off worthwhile.
Get into the best shape of her life. Have the most fun of her life. Oh, and have the best sex of her life.
Sexy young Adam comes into her life at just the right time. A physical trainer with a loving-life personality, he should work nicely in helping her meet all three goals. He’d be especially perfect for the best sex. Now if he would only just cooperate...
Tori couldn’t stifle a moan as the almost-pain of exerting muscles that seldom got use kicked in. It’d been a long time. Too long.
Panting slightly, she enjoyed the stretch as perspiration beaded across her glowing skin. She strained towards the pleasure she felt hovering just beyond reach.
Almost there. Almost there...
Oh no. Sidestitch.
And a cramp.
Tori limped to an abrupt halt, pressing her hands to the sharp ache in her lower abdomen while scoping out a non-bird-poopy spot on the curb to collapse on. Using one hand to frantically massage her spasming calf, Tori just had to use some of her very limited breath to laugh out loud at her dilemma.
“I was going to offer you some help, but it sounds like you’re doing okay now.”
The deep voice must belong to the running shoes in front of her, but for the life of her, Tori couldn’t look up just then.
“Oh, no. Not okay. But I had a feeling this would happen. It was going too well, know what I mean? First time I’ve run in years.”
A warm, sympathetic chuckle. “Well, you were looking good, right up until you seized up.”
“I’ll bet that was pretty comical to watch. Ah, ah!” The cramp in her leg spiked painfully in spite of her efforts. Why the hell had she thought she could start exercising again?
“Here, you have to flex it. No, don’t point!” Strong hands forced her foot back towards her body as her rescuer knelt before her like Cinderella’s prince. “Deep breaths, really deep. Fill your belly. That’ll help your stitch.”
“How’d you know I had a stitch in my side?” Tori panted, curled up in as close to a ball as she could get with one leg stuck out in front of her.
“I could tell by the way you suddenly grabbed your stomach like you’d been shot. Now don’t pant, breathe deep.” The steady voice was soothing, but demanded compliance.
Abandoning the short blows vaguely reminiscent of those she’d seen in movie birthing rooms, Tori obeyed, inhaling until she felt dizzy then letting the air whoosh out. Those hands had displaced hers on her calf, and she felt a moment of panic trying to remember whether she’d shaved her legs that morning. She winced at the thought of stubbly legs then realised that her sidestitch was almost gone and the cramp was easing.
“Does that hurt?”
“No, feels good.” A little too good. The man had great hands, and Tori was starting to get some ideas about other kinds of exertion he could help her with.
Great hands and observant. Tori started to uncurl herself bit by bit, ready to coil back up at the first sign of pain.
“That’s it, hon. Here, stretch your other leg out for me.” He slid his hand along the back of her uninjured leg, encouraging her to ease it out straight, making her think again about the shaving bit. Yes, she must be freshly shaved, else she wouldn’t have worn shorts. She knew herself that well at least.
Once in a regular sitting position, she finally got a look at her Good Samaritan, and almost felt herself seize up again.
Tori was in the presence of perfection. It was as if all the women in the world got together and held a summit to design the most gorgeous man possible, then gave him great hands and sent him out to rescue damsels in distress...