The early morning sun was backlit against one of the most magnificent things Charlie had seen in her young life: a nearly-naked Trig.
He stood ramrod straight, clad in nothing but his briefs, his shirt in one hand. His attention was focused out the small window, which allowed Charlie to take in every inch of him: the shadow of a beard and his hair curled at the nape of his neck. The broad shoulders that folded into work-honed biceps. A spray of dark chest hairs across strong pectorals and down a taut stomach until it disappeared under the band of his briefs.
The night came back to her like flashbacks in a movie: the feel of Trig's body pressed against hers...lightning flashing...his arms around her, his breath in her ear...
An unfamiliar heat formed between her legs as her eyes wandered over Trig's well-proportioned rear and similarly well-proportioned front side.
And then he turned toward her...
(Copyright 2010 Tracey Cramer-Kelly)
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