A tall hedge of azaleas ringed the patio, and Pete pushed his way into a narrow gap in the thick green leaves. A clutter of aging aluminum chairs had been scattered over the concrete slab. Peter moved closer, cautiously, moving with purpose toward the back door. He peeked inside. Theresa kissed the man he assumed must be Eric. Peter felt a burst of jealous rage, but the fire of his anger was doused almost at once by the sheer beauty he encountered. Theresa lifted her sweater over her hair, tousling her golden mane. She shook her head and the unkempt strands fell seductively past her cheeks, framing a coy smile. The straps of her beige satin bra adorned her pale shoulders; the swells of her breasts strained against the slightly frayed cloth.
Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances