“Splatters of mud stained Rothbury's fine lawn shirt, which clung slickly to the broad expanse of his back like a second skin. Having rolled up his sleeves at the onset of his task, his muscled arms were now streaked with mud and rain as were the tall boots and tight black breeches that hugged the sinewy muscles of his long, undoubtedly strong legs. Her admiring gaze alighted upon his golden-brown hair, which now looked more brown than golden as it was wet with perspiration and mist. A few locks lay plastered to his neck in wispy whorls. Charlotte suddenly felt overly warm. Seeing him... wet... somehow embarrassed her. It felt dark, intimate. Truly, if it weren't for the mud- and clothes- she rather thought this would be what he looked like after a bath. A shiver ran down her arms as her eyes drifted to the dewy trails of rain droplets that ran over his slightly bristled jaw and neck, disappearing in the nest of his loosely tied cravat. And then her hungry gaze raised... and connected with Rothbury's. All thoughts flew straight out of her head. Looking at her from over his shoulder, he straightened, his smile twisting with arrogance. Despite the chill in the air, her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. How long had he been watching her in-depth perusal? Long enough, she supposed, if the heated gleam in his eyes was any indication at all. She blinked, shaking her head hurriedly, hoping by that action she was silently telling him, "No, I definitely was not looking at you." He answered her gesture by nodding slowly, telling her he knew exactly what she had been doing and that he had caught her in the act. She gave her head another insistent shake. Still looking at her from over his shoulder, he sauntered back to the carriage, his smile broadening. He lifted his shoulder as if to say, "I don't care. Look all you want." She shook her head again, tightly. He winked. She gulped. And then he set back to work with the other men to free the carriage.” Masculine BeautyAdam FaramondCharlotte And AdamShameless FlirtAdmiring Beauty Book:To Wed a Wicked Earl Source: To Wed a Wicked Earl
“Charlotte stood, her gaze instantly connecting with Rothbury's. A zing of awareness tingled down her spine. Dripping with sensuality, the earl stood with his back to the wall, his stance, as always, exuding a lazy confidence. The damp spring air in the crowded room caused his dark-blond locks to curl slightly where wisps had escaped the velvet queue secured behind his neck. He wore no costume, no mask, which of course wasn't required, therefore catching the eye of every warm-blooded female within a two-hundred-foot radius. It wasn't an exaggeration. The sighs of feminine appreciation surrounded Charlotte. Though she found it slightly ridiculous, she could not find it in herself to blame them. He was simply that fetching. His expertly cut dark gray coat hugged his broad shoulders, and his stark white cravat, frothy with elegant folds, emphasized his chiseled chin, gold with faint bristles. And his mouth- oh, that glorious mouth- both haughty and wicked, curving with his ever-present sagacious grin. Lord, what it must feel like to have those lips touch one's own. Charlotte gave an appreciative sigh, drinking up the sight of him. For a masquerade, his plain evening clothes on any other man would have lent him to fade into the background. But not Rothbury. Dear heavens, no. It only added to his sinful, blush-inducing appeal.” SensualityMasculine BeautyAdam Faramond Book:To Wed a Wicked Earl Source: To Wed a Wicked Earl
“There, on a spindle-legged chair positioned against the far wall under the warm glow of the twin sconces, Lord Rothbury, blindfolded with his own cravat, his hands tied together, secured behind the back of the chair. In vain, she tried to swallow, only it felt as if her throat had been doused with sand. Good Lord! Why on earth was he tied up? His shirt lay open, displaying the tawny skin of his broad chest, his flat nipples, and the sparse golden hairs that brushed the plane of his muscled stomach. Her greedy eyes remained fastened on that sleek, bare stomach, mesmerized by the rise and fall of each breath he took. A voice in the back of her mind told her she should look away. After all, he was sin embodied. But what a sight he was for her starved eyes. His dark blond locks lay in splendid disarray and he gave his head a quick jerk, tossing away the hair that fell across his forehead. He was unsuccessful, the silky strands sliding back into their former position. He blew out his frustration with a low growl.” Sexual AttractionMasculine BeautyAdam Faramond Book:To Wed a Wicked Earl Source: To Wed a Wicked Earl
“Charlotte slid a glance at Rothbury. Diagonally across from their little cluster, he lounged on an ornate garden chair that looked as if it was designed specifically for the dainty bottom of an English miss- not the long-legged grown man who was currently occupying it. Indeed, it looked in danger of crumbling under his weight. Charlotte pressed her lips together, suppressing the need to smile. There was nothing like delicate furniture to make a man seem even more incredibly masculine than he already was.” Masculine BeautyAdam Faramond Book:To Wed a Wicked Earl Source: To Wed a Wicked Earl