The theme this week is all about getting your sexy on…no matter what your age. What is sexy to one person won’t necessarily be sexy to another. Yet, getting one’s sexy on is a driving theme no matter what the age of the character, no matter what situation they are in, be it life or death.
Everyone has that special significant other who makes them feel special, who makes them get their sexy on. Maybe in the beginning, they don’t even know just what’s going on. But they know something is because they feel different around the person. Their senses are heightened, they just know when that person enters a room because they can feel the electricity between them. They feel sexy every time that special someone is close.
So here's a sexy excerpt from my time travel/divine intervention romance "Love Remains"
He hung the wet dishcloth over the stove handle and headed upstairs. The light under the door of master suite drew his attention.
“Olivia.” He knocked on the door. “I need to get my toothbrush out of the bathroom.”
The door flung open and she held a flannel plaid cloth in his face. “What is this?”
“Your pajama bottoms.”
“This can’t be mine. It’s huge and ugly.”
“You love sleeping in it.” He smiled, balling his hands into fists to stop from wrapping her in his arms. She appeared in need of reassuring and at the same time stared at him with that same blank expression. He’d never seen her grey eyes this cold. The overhead light shone on her long, raven hair as she threw the pants on the bed behind her, where he’d planned to make wild love to her. It had been a while.
“Where’s my black, silk nightie with thin straps?”
“Oh, that little number?” He couldn’t stop from grinning. “Well, let’s just say, the last time you put it on, nine months later, we had Rosie.”
She shot him a sharp look. “Don’t try to slip your kid as mine. Not going to work.”
He shrugged one shoulder. She was starting again. “I’m not trying anything. And it’s kids. More than one.”
Her eyes narrowed and her look turned dubious. “How many kids do you have?”
“We,” he said, pointing a finger from her to himself, but his annoyance with her
mellowed. She gave him his kids after all. “You and I have two kids. A boy and a girl.”
With her finger straight up, she stepped closer to him. “You and I have nothing together. Understand?”
“Honey, don’t start aga—”
“I’m not your honey,” she shouted, and her face turned red.
Tom nodded at the door to his left. “Keep your voice down. Rosie’s nursery is right there.”
A baby’s cry pierced the air. He exhaled in exasperation. “Great. It took me hours to put her down.”
Olivia slouched, wrapped her arms around her chest and cried out as if she was in
pain. She pulled her hands away and stared at them in bewilderment while wet spots formed on her shirt.
“I’ll get a bottle.” He turned toward the stairs, hoping she had not noticed his bulging pants. The mere thought of her breasts swelling up and bursting with milk tightened his crotch to painful levels.
“You barely stopped nursing two weeks ago. With Milo, you got engorged when you weaned.” He grabbed her shoulders, pushed her toward the suite bathroom. “If Rosie smells breast milk, she’ll scream like a banshee. Go shower.”
He yanked on his pants to loosen the pressure on his groin. The running water in the
shower stirred his imagination again. He pushed on the bathroom door. To his delight,
Olivia had not locked it. She never did. He peeked inside. Her gorgeous figure showed
through the frosted glass of the cubicle door. Shower foam hugged her curves. Another
wave of desire slammed into his pelvis. Damn, he should be kissing every inch of her.
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