“My chakras,” I repeat, leaning back to look her over. Fuck. Now that she’s inside, I can see those black, see-through tights end just below the hem of her T-shirt. If she bent forward, those sweet curves of her buns would be right there for the taking—and oh, I plan to take.

Hard.

“Yes, your chakras.” Her expression is very solemn. Even a little worried. For me. “You can’t see what I see, Big Daddy.” Nimble fingers dance over my shoulders, digging into pressure points and ...