“Amy, that man is staring at you,” Peter said.
Amy shifted in her seat and refused to look at Graham.
Even not looking at him, she was aware of how the tuxedo fit every curve of him.
She imagined, briefly, unsnapping the buttons and tucking her hand beneath the smooth white fabric to trace the hair of his chest, to burrow her fingertips in it.
Well, not exactly burrow, he wasn’t a Sasquatch, but the idea of tracing the line of his clavicle then working her way under his shirt to touch the swell of his chest and then his nipple…
“Why, Amy, now you’re staring at him!”
What is "Six Sentence Sunday"? A great way to connect with writers and find new works to read. Here are the rules as listed on http://sixsunday.blogspot.com/ . Visit there for a list of more writers playing this week.
- Posts must be active by 9 am (EST) or your link will be removed from the list that week
- Posts must be SIX SENTENCES or your link will be removed from the list that week
- Post must be about those six sentences or your link will be removed from the list that week