Posted by Lexxie Couper on Wednesday, March 26th, 2014
Totally unedited, straight from my brain to you?
Holy crap, he had a nice back.
And nice shoulders.
And come to think of it, his hips were damn fine as well. In fact, there wasn’t anything that didn’t fall into the delicious-eye-candy basket about him. Well, not that she could see. Of course, she hadn’t seen the front yet, only the back. She’d been drooling over the sublimely sexy back view ever since she’d caught up to him at the foot of the stairs on the last level of the Tornado Whirl. The beads of water already on his smooth, bronzed skin, glistening in the San Diego summer sun, only emphasized how goddamn sexy that back view was.
All toned and sculpted and yummy.
God, what would it be like to feel his muscles under her fingers?
A hard jolt from behind knocked Miranda Wilson off-balance. She shot a look over her shoulder, grabbing at the railing to steady herself as she fixed her nephew—thirteen going on twenty-one with all the makings of a frat boy ringleader—with an exasperated grin. “Okay, Chuckles, I get you’re impatient, but can you lay off the body slams for a while? We’re almost at the top and I can’t go any further forward.”
Charles, AKA Chuck, AKA Chuckles, smirked, flicking a pointed look at Mr. Back-Like-A-God’s back. “But you want to, right? I was just trying to help. Make you move forward, that is.”
Miranda, AKA Randi to just about everyone who knew her except her mother, cocked an eyebrow at her well-meaning but highly inappropriate nephew. “Keep that up, Chuck, and I’ll toss you over the side.” She leaned toward the steep mesh separating the top level of the waterslide’s walkway from the view of the ground a good XXXX feet below, giving him a smirk of her own. “And I don’t think you’ll bounce.”
Charles rolled his eyes and shoved at her shoulder a little, enough to make her panic about her boob’s containment in the skimpy triangle of black material calling itself a bikini top. “Hurry up, Aunt Randi. Get your move on.”
Surreptitiously checking her cleavage was still PG13, Randi turned back to face the direction of the Tornado Whirl’s starting point.
And got an eyeful of Mr. Back-Like-A-God’s sublimely incredible thighs and calves as—a few feet further up the walkway—he climbed the last stair.
She stared at them for a heartbeat, imagining how amazing they’d feel framing hers on a bed, his hands pinning her wrists to the bed as he gazed down into her face with eyes she hadn’t seen yet, his body sliding over hers, his skin wet—not with water from the water park’s most popular slide, but from perspiration. Perspiration from the hours and hours of wild, unrestrained sex they’d been having.
Her pussy contracted.
Just as the guy with the incredible back, shoulders, arms, hips, thighs and calves turned slightly sideways, positioning himself at the mouth of the slide, one foot on its rim, one hand gripping the handle overhead.
Revealing to Randi a full-body profile just as exquisitely sexy as his back.
Along with the small child no more than nine grinning up at him from the directly in front of him, her hand firmly clasped in his, her strawberry-blonde hair a mass of wet ringlets streaming down her small back.
Randi let out a grunt. That would be right. All the sexy ones were already taken. So much for that wholly unwholesome fantasy.
“Don’t be scared, Daddy,” the little girl instructed Mr. Back-Like-A-God.
Randi heard her fantasy guy chuckle. Goddamn it, even his laugh was sexy. What the hell? “Doing my best, hon,” he answered.
Randi couldn’t help herself. She groaned. His voice…oh God, his voice was sexier than his laugh.
She stared up at them both, the Adonis-like man and his pixie-like daughter, and cursed the second she’d agreed to tag along with her brother and his family to the Wet n Wild water park.
This is what she got for putting her studies ahead of her social life. If she’d actually had sex in the last six months instead of focussig on her Masters degree she wouldn’t be lusting after a man way off-limits on a waterslide far too scary for her own adventure limits.
Damn it. She really needed to—
“Hurry up, Randi.” Chuck nudged her in the back. “You’re next.”
She stumbled forward, whacking her knee on the last step. White-hot pain shot up her thigh and down her shin. “Shit,” she burst out, a second before slapping her hand over her mouth and looking up at the man perched at the mouth of the slide not four feet away.
His gaze connected with hers, an expression of disapproval falling over a face so goddamn gorgeous Ryan Gosling would have been jealous, before he placed his hand on his daughter’s shoulder and turned away. “C’mon, hon,” he said, presenting Randi his delicious back again as he guided her into the mouth of the slide. “Our turn.”
The little girl gave Randi a little grin before disappearing behind her father’s torso.
“On the green light,” the slide’s attendant—who looked no older than Chuck, in Randi’s opinion, said to the man and his daughter, “you pull yourself forward. Make sure you hold her the whole way down, sir.”
Randi watched her misguided sexual fantasy nod once. “On the green light.” His shoulders bunched as he slid his…
Soooo…what do you think?