Transfixed, I watched as he kicked off his tennis shoes and his hands went to the waistband of his shorts. Not once had he looked up to see if anyone was watching. Probably because he was used to his privacy, and there I was sitting in his backyard being a peeping Tom. I wanted to see those shorts slip down his golden, muscular thighs, but turned my head at the last minute.

Groaning, I flung myself back into the cushion and stared up at the cloudless sky. What I wanted to do was run inside and rub myself all over the wet, naked man like a cat in heat. If the throbbing between my legs was any indication of how I would spend the foreseeable future, it was going to be a long year.

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