This week’s theme is Their Sexy Thoughts. When characters think about each other in a sexy, exciting way, we as readers adore them. We love hearing about how the hero thinks the heroine is sexy and loving and oh so much more as the story progresses. As writers, we love putting those words down and getting them just right.
So here's an excerpt from Rose of Crimson, whit hero, Matthias Zrin's, thoughts of heroine while she's preparing coffee for them, though she cannot see him, but has finally accepted his disembodied voice and they are getting to know each other.
He opened his mouth to explain once again that he in fact wasn't a spirit, but he closed it fast. If the ghost theory was a plausible explanation for her, then he’d let her think so until he convinced her otherwise.“I would love a cup, thank you.”
A funny frown appeared on her face. “You would?” She wobbled her head as if contemplating the possibility. “Why not? I guess even ghosts have to get the caffeine fix.”
Leaning against the wall, he waited for her to brew their beverage and fill two cups. Since he had invaded her thoughts, she had spent a lot of time in the gym, exhausting herself so she would sleep. Guilt stung him, but he had to admit the hours of exercising resulted in a mouth-watering body, begging to be caressed. He regretted his thought as soon as a part of his body responded to it. Pangs of conscience stabbed at him. No woman since Emina’s death provoked such reaction in him.
“I’ll put the cup on the table for you.” Twisting, her unrestrained breasts under her nighty almost brushed his chest. His hands instinctively reached for her. He balled them into tight fists. Damn, three centuries of gentlemanly upbringing forgotten in an instant.
Soon, he would have her. For all of God’s creations, where had that thought come from? It hadn’t been a year since his wife passed away. What kind of spell gripped him? Kate’s resemblance to her ancestor sparked him. Centuries later, the young servant’s soft smiles and longing gazes still danced fresh in his mind. In fifteen years since he first met this Kate, his beast had not awakened, but the possibility forever griped him with fear.
The plastic patio chair scraped against the vinyl floor of the tiny kitchen pulling him out of his lustful thoughts. Kate placed the mug down on the round table top, then gestured. “Have a seat, or float, or whatever you ghosts do. I’ll get myself decent.”
She scurried to the bathroom. From the aroma wafting to him, Kate brewed strong, hearty coffee. He raised the cup and inspected the plain, blue mug. After the first sip, he smacked his lips. Yep, coffee was to his taste.
Perhaps he should reveal his appearance, but not his true looks. Something Kate would find attractive. But no. He’d come here to set the truth forth and starting with a deceitful appearance was not a good beginning.
A few minutes later, she emerged wrapped in a purple bathrobe. Her long hair pulled in a neat twisted bun.
“I see you can manipulate things,” she said, approaching the table.
“Huh?” He shook his head.
She pointed to his mug.
He gasped, realizing all she saw was the cup hovering in midair. “Yes, as I explained I’m not really a ghost.”
“All you said was ‘I’m alive.’ And not in those exact words.”
Her attempt to mimic his voice coaxed a chuckle out of him. “Maybe I’m an angel.”
Her face beamed as she slowly raised her chin. “A guardian angel?”
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