That thought is halted the minute she walks in. Long, soft waves of brown swish inside the doorway. Below that hair is a petite, very petite, package full of curves. flawless ass wrapped in some tight jeans, tiny waist, full breasts seen at a side profile, outlined in a gray V-neck shirt. Those soft globes peeking out as she inhales. The ideal hourglass figure. 

I haven’t even seen her face and I’m already picturing what I would do to her. I want to feel her skin. I can imagine how silky it would feel, how soft and conforming to my grip. How it would feel under my lips. Taste on my tongue. I want to lick her back. Every curve of …

Again my thoughts come to a halt. My erection stops mid-growth. Her face. Those eyes. My heart stops. It literally. Fucking. Stops. I don’t even think I breathe.

I’m not a fan of clichés, but from my reactions—my stopped breath, my stopped heart, the jaw dropping, eyes devouring, not to mention sexual thoughts paused … and now my heart is beating like I just ran a marathon, quick breathes, heart attack approaching. If I believed in it, I think I am experiencing love at first sight. And from the looks of her—paused mid-step, eyes locked on mine, rapid breathing, mouth parted, now trying not to look at me—I would say she is experiencing the same dubious phenomena. 

Her face, if it had to be described in one word, it would be angelic. Her skin is impeccably fair, with a pretty blush to her cheeks. Her eyes are big and doe-like, so sweet, innocent, and the most beautiful shade of blue I have ever seen. They are fanned by the thickest lashes, and the arch of her brow just begs to be outlined by a finger. Her lips are the closest to natural red I have ever seen on a girl. And I know it’s not makeup; there isn’t a stitch of it on her pretty fresh face. Her nose … I want to press a kiss to that little nose. 

What the hell am I saying? One look at this girl, and I am a puddle of mush.