Sex on legs said. I didn’t respond. Just stood there, taking in the fine specimen of a man—gaping at him with a dropped jaw. I’m surprised there wasn’t drool making its way down my chin. Dark stubble covering chiseled features led down to an even more defined body. The black shirt under his suit jacket stretched across his muscular frame. It was open at the collar, highlighting his golden skin. I wondered if the expanse of his muscled chest had that same golden glow. The suit looked expensive, certainly custom-made. There was no way he’d pulled it off a sales rack at J.C. Penney. It fit too well. He smelled of expensive cologne mixed with expensive cognac. I blinked a few times and came back to myself. God, how long had I been standing here, gaping at him like an idiot? “I’m fine.” It was mostly true. My nose was tender but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I moved to get free of his grip. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the feel of his large hands.
