Irritation wins out over fear, and I clear my throat—loudly.
He moves a little again but still doesn’t wake up.
Grrr…
Now I’m even more aggravated, so I blurt out in a loud tone, “Hello? Hello? Who are you, and what in the hell are you doing inmyliving room?”
That wakes him up.
Mystery man practically falls off the sofa before he jumps up and spins around.
Holy fuck, he has a huge boner!
And I mean it isbig.
My eyes are glued to his crotch.
I can’t help it, even as he grinds out an annoyed “Ahem, my face is up here, sweetheart.”
Ooh, though he sounds mad, I like the smooth tone of his voice.
I’m still staring—I mean, how can I not?—until he grabs a throw pillow and covers himself.
He then asks, “Who the fuck are you anyway?”
This dude has some nerve!
Clearing my throat, and with my gaze slowly moving up his really just mega-hot body, I snap, “I think the more important question at the moment is who are—”
I snap my mouth shut because my eyes have finally made it up to his face.
Not only is his face very nice to look at, but it’s one that I know.
Now I have only a single burning question, and I say it out loud. “What in the hell is Shane Thoma, hockey player for the Phoenix Bears, doing here in my living room half naked, and with a boner to boot?”
This crazy chick standing just a step or two inside the doorway of my living room, who still hasn’t told me who the fuck she is, blurts out, “What in the hell is Shane Thoma, hockey player for the Phoenix Bears, doing here in my living room half naked, and with a boner to boot?”
Okay, so this intruder knows who I am.
Great.
Oh, and she saw that I was hard.
Double great.
Thank God that’s going away.
Hey, I can’t help it if I was having a sexy dream when she so rudely woke me up.
Speaking of sexy, this intruder, annoying or not, is pretty hot. She has on a fitted floral sundress that shows off her feminine curves and lean tan legs.
And though she’s clearly as irritated with me as I am with her, she’s cute in her anger.
Her pretty face is scrunched up in a wince of embarrassment at the moment, but there’s fire in what appears to be her vibrant green eyes, not unlike my own.
I also like the way the soft curls in her strawberry blonde hair bounce when she suddenly huffs and crosses her arms over her chest.
“Sorry,” she says, wincing again. “I didn’t mean to say that last part out loud.”
