Angela's bit

Paula now had proof she was having a stroke. A stroke that had put her into a coma and blessed her with her wildest fantasy. There was no other explanation for the appearance of the dark-haired, long-limbed, sinewy handsome devil who lounged across the bed with a twinkle in his Paul Newman eyes.

Jolene gawked and gasped. "Oh my goodness."

Ok, he wasn't my stroke-induced dream man, Paula thought as the deformed spoon fell from her numb fingers.

She snapped out of her stupor and gulped when he settled deeper into the bed pillows and the sheet shifted dangerously low on his hip. Finding her voice, she asked, "How'd you get in here?"

Jolene sidled closer and hissed. "Be nice. He's perfect."

Perfect was an understatement. Her gaze followed the line of hair which started from a delicious pattern in the center of his chest down his ridged abs and disappeared in a tempting feather just above the sheet tucked between his legs. Muscles rippled and danced under the sunlight peeking through the blinds and across the bed when he raised his arms and folded his hands behind his head. Paula couldn't resist feasting on his tanned and toned limbs. The sight reminded her that with a gay ex she was horny as hell. She pressed her dimpled thighs together as a rush of desire throbbed through her womb and dampened her panties.

Unfazed by her tone, he gave her a pointed stare. "I've always been around. You just haven't noticed. And Jolene's right, I'm perfect." A thick brow rose, and he presented them with a rakish smile. "Besides, didn't one of you mention something about a perfect mate?"

AJ