“Darcy, every once in a while, I have to remind myself that it’s not 1870 anymore. And you can bet your ninth life that I would never want to live under that social etiquette again. Pshh, I’m a modern woman.” It was an unusually balmy day for early January, even by southern Louisiana standards. I scanned the yard and decided that I should head toward the bayou first. As I passed the corner of the house, I heard something quite unexpected but in a good way. Whistling. Someone was whistling a strange tune that stopped me in my tracks. I think at that point I knew what, or who, I expected to find. And there he was. Vasili was descending a ladder that was leaning up against the house. Of course, his shirt just had to be off and his beautiful bronze body gleamed in the sun. The soothing melody floated from his talented lips. Yes, of course, he had to have talented lips. I watched, listened, and became completely captivated by the way his muscles rippled and the way his jeans hugged his perfect ass.
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