“Damn!” Pulling her hand away from the newly boiled jars, she sucked on her finger. “These puppies are hot.” His non-response confused her, so she turned to see why he didn’t answer. When she did, the look of the hungry tiger radiated from his eyes once again. His bare chest and arms glinted with sweat, rugged and masculine, and her gaze traveled to his hair, strewn about wildly in the heat. His legs, his bare feet, every inch of him oozed sensuousness, manly perfection.

A cool breeze, out of nowhere, came by and her breasts, flat in the heat, rose, showing through the fabric of the thin t-shirt she wore. Mental telepathy played a part in her removing her shirt and after she did, her bare breasts, small, but firm showed off her perfect pink nipples. He licked his lips and she unbuttoned her shorts, pulling the zipper down slowly. They fell to the floor and she removed one leg and then the other. Another breeze, this one stronger, came through the window and whipped her hair around her shoulders and the once light kitchen darkened and she glanced outside.

“I think a storm’s heading in,” she said softly.

“In more ways than one!” He crossed the kitchen as a flash of lightning struck off in the distance and the boom of thunder it produced banked off the walls. He lifted her into his arms and kicking open the back door with his foot, he brought her into the yard and walked far back into a clearing, laying her down roughly.