alarm.’ Morgan and Riley chorused.
‘Smartasses.’ Noah dropped the mannequin and thought that he badly needed some testosterone before he started to grow breasts. ‘I’m going to watch some manly sports on ESPN. Have fun playing with your grown-up Barbies, girls.’
Noah’s hand drifted over Morgan’s hair as he passed her. He wasn’t sure if she noticed because she was frantically scrabbling through the piles of multi-coloured, beaded and luscious garments to look for...who knew what?
Concentrating on sport was a nightmare when he couldn’t stop imagining Morgan in a tiny black and red corset sparkling with diamond-like beads, black striped thigh-high stockings, red ‘screw me’ heels and an elaborate Mardi Gras mask...straddling his hips, his hands on the smooth, warm, bare flesh above those heart attack-inducing stockings...
He dropped his head back against the arm of the couch and adjusted his jeans. Could a man die from lack of sex and frustration? He was convinced that it was a distinct possibility.
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