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It wasn’t healthy for a man to go for so long without some form of interaction with members of the opposite sex. However, one look at Daniel and Sonya simply didn’t have that kind of time.
“Help me out here, will ya?” she said, showing him her backside and changing the subject. One thing she hated, was her ability to unintentionally hurt his feelings.
Behind her, Daniel groaned inwardly as Sonya lifted a heavy curtain of long dark curls and in the process gave him a full and uninhibited view of her backside. The smoothness of her exposed back and the lack of a bra had him shifting the front flap of his pants .
She was undeniably the sexiest creature he had ever observed, and his fingers ached to reach out and stroke her velvet skin. But a portion of his brain also wanted to demand she turn around and put on the missing garment.
When asked an hour earlier if she should wear the provocative little red dress or the equally sexy but with a higher degree of material blue dress, he instantly chose the latter. Not that he was a prude.
As a matter-of-fact, he definitely preferred the red dress and the way it clung to her female curves and arched to her delightful bottom. The lack of a bra very evident through the thin material of her dress, only made his groin ache. And it was for this reason that had him vexed.
He knew damn well it was for the benefit of Tristan Manning, the owner of the bar where she was headed for a job interview. She started crooning for the guy ever since she began to frequent his establishment. Why this Tristan person never asked her out, was a complete mystery to Daniel.
Sonya Elliott was the perfect male fantasy. Not only was she tall with a sinfully perfect body, but also had the face of a goddess. The word conservative did not describe Sonya.
Nor did shy. As evidenced now as he hooked a finger and pulled on the zipper to exam the damage, and in the process exposed a wonderfully curved backside where it dipped below her panty line. His eyes filled with the sight of her before letting go of the zipper and allowed the panties to snap back into place.
“Come on in.” He turned around and walked back into his apartment, controlling his male urge at the snatched look.
“So what has changing my mind about the dress got to do with my—what did you call it—connection to the universal system of proportion?”
“Propulsion,” he corrected. “The act of moving forward.”
“Whatever.”
“Well, without propulsion our universe would cease to exist. As humans, we have an inherent ability to be able to zap into this system when confronted with conflict. The greater that ability, the greater the connection with the universe.”
When he received no response, he glanced over his shoulder and caught her eyes looking distant. His shoulders drooped as he quickly turned away. Retrieving his line of thought, he decided to try a different approach. “As humans, we are naturally motivated by conflict. It is a vital element of evolution. Without it, we are unable to move forward. Progress.”
“Oh-kay.”
“Therefore, no matter how much one may want to resist change, it is fundamentally conducive to growth.”
“Yes, well, I am certainly getting a lot of resistance here.” She yanked on her zipper, reminding him of her reason for being there.
“Ah, yes, resistance. The opposition or defiance of propulsion. Or in this case obstruction.”
“Daniel, please,” she groaned and motioned to her backside once again. “Could you help me out here?”
“Right.” He grimaced and turned his attention back to rummaging through some cupboards. It was a bad habit of his to dribble useless information whenever he got nervous. And women made him nervous. Especially beautiful women. And Sonya Elliott was as beautiful as they came.
“Do you think you can free it?”
“Don’t worry,” he said, then muttered under his breath, “You won’t keep your precious Tristan waiting.”
Though she must have heard for she smirked and gestured to her attire. “Do you think he’ll like it?”
“I’m sure.”
Sonya noticed he didn’t even bother to look her way as he pulled kitchen drawers out and began searching for something.
She sighed with the smallest trace of disappointment. He wasn’t being very reassuring. She didn’t know why, but Tristan Manning got under her skin. Maybe it was because he was the only man she wanted and wasn’t able to snare. Two months now and all she could manage to gain from him was a wink now and then.
It frustrated her and, no doubt, made her infatuation with him stronger. If it were the last thing she did she would have that man groveling at her feet and, smiling smugly, possibly with his head between her—
“—panties?”
Sonya blinked. “What?”
