Page 44 of Casita Casanova
“Oh my gosh, Dani.”
“I’m serious. I’ve had the same penis for seven years, MaRo. Don’t rob me of this.”
With a laugh, I push off the bed and make my way to the vanity, double-checking that my hair is tucked neatly into a ponytail and my makeup looks okay. I have about ten minutes until I have to leave for my first day at my new job. “Where do I start?”
“Let’s start with the easy stuff. You said he was completely naked, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And he just stood out there in your backyard, all… exposed?”
“Yes,” I practically growl.
The man is definitely going to be a problem for me. Ever since he arrived, I’m running at about eleven on the heat scale and close to overheating. And let’s not talk about what’s going on down below. He’s awakening desires in me I haven’t felt in years.
Decades.
The old girl’s ready to dust herself off and open her doors for anyone and everyone. I’m a walking, talking, ticking timebomb of hormones and need.
And it’s quite distressing.
“And his body is good?” Danielle asks.
I nod. “Very.” Grabbing my purse off the nightstand, I reach in and find my house keys.
“Okay, are we talking slim and somewhat fit, like borderline Dad Bod… or rock solid and delicious?”
“He’s definitely rock solid and delicious.”
Danielle whimpers. “Abs?”
“Allof them, Danielle. I counted eight.”
She sucks in a breath. “Goddamn, I’m good at manifesting.”
I laugh, stealing one more glance in the mirror. “You definitely are.” I’m not saying I spent more time on my makeup today than I usually do, but I’m not saying I didn’t.
And I’m also not saying it was because of a certain appetizing man living in my casita.
It’s my first day working at the brewery and I want to look my best. I give my reflection a curt nod. Yeah, that’s it.
“And the Adonis belt?”
Frowning, I pause at the doorway of my room. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Oh yes you do. That deep V of muscles that points downward to the promised land.”
“Oh God,” I groan. “Yes. It was good. Really defined.”
“You’re killing me.” She sighs. “Okay… and hair or no hair?”
“On his head? I already told you—”
“No, girl. Stop it. I don’t give a shit if he’s balding. Lower.”
“His chest is shaved and smoothed.” I pause, picturing Cas. Maybe it’s even waxed.
“And lower,” she urges.
