My next book is a contemporary erotic romance, with a sexy ex-pilot who needs someone to save and a 40-something woman who needs a lot of saving. In the following scene, John (our hero) has just saved Liselle from her frozen car in the middle of a snowstorm. It’s still unedited-apologies for any typos:
His voice in her ear was not helping. She tried to relax and bit her lip, holding as still as she could, but she was still chilly. A violent shiver wracked her body. Her hips pushed into him, despite her best efforts. He grunted and she flushed hot with dismay as she tried again to stop moving.
“I can’t help it, I’m still really cold,” she muttered, hooking a hand over the back of the sofa to give herself something safe to hold onto. How the hell could she still be freezing when a beautiful, amazing, sweet man was holding her against his insanely hot body? She wished she could thump her head against something hard. Repeatedly. Until she had control of herself again.
“Hey, it’s okay. Relax,” he said, pulling her hand back down into the blanket. He laughed, dropping his face into the nape of her neck. “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”
“What? Why?” she asked, biting her lip again. Maybe the pain would keep her from injuring the poor man.
“Uh, well, I’m just trying to warm you up and my body is giving me a hard time,” he said, voice taut with some unspoken emotion. “Because you’re really beautiful.”
She stopped breathing. He thought she was beautiful? “What—” She had to clear her throat and try again. “You think I’m pretty?”
She could almost hear him frown.
“You don’t think you are?” he murmured, tracing a finger over her cheek.
She shook her head. She was in her forties. Guys did not think women her age were pretty, particularly not when they were a bit plump and somewhat short. It was a rule, or something.
“That’s crazy. You are. You have gorgeous hair, so long and shiny it moves like water through my fingers.” He demonstrated, picking some up and letting it slide to her shoulder. “And your skin is pink when you’re warm and you smell like vanilla. And you’re soft and curvy in all the right places.”
She shivered again, trying really hard to believe she wasn’t hallucinating from hypothermia.
He continued. “But aside from all that, I can tell you’re beautiful inside, too, which is more important than all the stuff on the outside. I knew as soon as I saw you with Beth. Your face when she hugged you—” He broke off, voice thick.
Liselle couldn’t believe he was saying these things out loud. “Am I dreaming?”