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It's not easy to write a scene that captures your reader's imagination. To hold them in a grip so tight . . . they go up in flames.
Sizzling heat. Clenched teeth. Desire beyond reason...or rationale.
It doesn't have to be graphic.
Tension can increase the pounding of our blood.
Lead us to the moment.
Keep us hanging by a thread.
Here's a scene that pulls the tension tight.
Her soft skin called to him in whispered undertones aided by his memory. Earthy scents wafted up to tease his nose and his nibbling lips found the erotic spot just below her ear.
“Smells good too,” he murmured, his lips traveling the juncture between her shoulder and neck. Tattoo-like markings stood contrary to her coloring. He held his breath, waiting for the expected sense of war-inflicted hatred to erupt. Instead, a pressure bloomed in his chest, his heart swelling. Unfamiliar with the new chemistry mixing in his body, he sat back and absorbed the sensation, content to just be for once.
While she chatted about Pan knows what, Rhy ate without tasting his food, mesmerized by the movement of her erotic mouth. Her lips and tongue moved in perfect synchronicity, dancing in and out over her teeth.
Oh. My. Gods.
A vortex of insanity threatened to reach up and pull him in. Incredibly, his arousal inflated to raise a tented gable in his shorts. Never in his life had he wanted a female more. One night with Patience, one week, a whole lifetime—and it would never be enough.
Her nipples were hard under her borrowed shirt that read Blood ‘n Guts. Without realizing what he was doing, he stacked his mug on top of his empty plate, and moved to stand next to Patience.
“Wazzup?” Then her eyes drifted down. “Oh . . . my.”
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