Joy sensed him looking down at her, but she focused on her task of unbuttoning his shirt. If she looked into his eyes, her self-consciousness might dampen her ardor, and she wanted no interference to her desire at the present moment. She parted his shirt and for a few seconds just stared at the expanse of flawless, golden brown skin covering ridged, defined muscle. His small, coppery-tinged nipples nestled in a smattering of light brown hair on his chest. The narrow path of hair that bisected a flat, defined abdomen seemed to beckon Joy . . . tempt her to follow it beneath the waistband of his crisp black trousers....