Portia Da Costa - purveyor of erotic romance and erotica to the discerning woman since 1994

OBJECT OF DESIRE - an erotic romance story

Please be aware that this excerpt contains sensual content that is only suitable for adult readers who are comfortable with frank language and descriptions of erotic scenarios

Object of Desire - click for larger imageBlurb

See him, want him... love him?

Doctor Nathaniel Gowen is a hunk, and when he puts his godlike body through a series of graceful Tai Chi moves outside in their communal garden, Sylvia Bradford can't help but desire him. He's everything she's ever wanted in a man.

There's just one problem though. She's never spoken to him beyond saying "hello" and she's having difficulty coming up with an opening gambit.

But while Sylvia's busy working out how to make the first move, and get to know the gorgeous academic, Doctor Gowen himself comes knocking at her door. Does he really want to borrow a cup of sugar… or is it something quite different, and a lot hotter, that he's after?

NB A version of Object of Desire was previously published by Total-E-Bound

Available from Amazon.co.uk, Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble Nook, Kobo and iBooks

Other vendors to follow very soon.

Excerpt of Chapter One

Look at him! Look at him! Isn’t he just glorious?

Lurking behind my curtain, I stare down into the communal garden below, feasting my eyes on the sight of my new upstairs neighbour, as he glides like a dark ghost through his slow Tai Chi ritual. He’s tall. He’s massive. Like a giant clad all in black…and yet he’s so light in the way he moves that he almost seems to float above the tiny patch of lawn.

His name is Nathaniel Gowen and he’s just exactly what I need i.e. he’s a big, beautiful, intelligent, grown-up man. He’s the perfect antidote to Danny, my most recent ex, whose slavish devotion to his Playstation, Man U, and his latest ring-tone were quite endearing at first, but quickly degenerated to downright infantile.

Gilded by the lowering evening sunlight, Nathaniel Gowen’s movements, down in the garden, are stylised and hypnotic. His feet are bare, with long toes that flex against the grass, and every now and again, he closes his eyes as if he’s in ecstasy. I don’t know how old he is, but he’s a good deal older than I am, I guess. Mid forties, probably… But he’s in his prime and super-fit in every sense.

The building’s rumour mill says that he’s actually ‘Doctor Gowen’, a military historian, lecturer and analyst. But there’s a presence about that imposing six feet plus physique of his that says he could well have been a serving soldier before he hit the books.

My stomach quivers and I crumple a fold of curtain in my sweaty fist. The pressure shoots a tiny niggle of discomfort through my wrist, but I ignore it. I’m too busy picturing Nathaniel Gowen as SAS, or a Marine, or some other Special Forces operative. Totally hardcore and ruthless. Unrelenting in his determination and driven by a sort of steely single mindedness never goes away… He might be a Tai Chi practising academic these days, but somewhere in the heart of him, he’s still a deadly human warrior.

Even as I ogle him, he pauses, balanced on one leg without the slightest sign of effort, and cocks his head on one side. I retreat a step, full of the impression that he’s listening to my thoughts.

But why would he be?

He’s barely even noticed me around the building, as far as I know, and even if he has registered my existence on any meaningful level, he probably doesn’t actually know which flat is mine. We’ve exchanged nothing more than an amiable “hello” or “lovely day” in passing, in the lobby or the laundry room. He’s favoured me with a wide, white killer smile once or twice, but I seriously doubt that he even knows my name.

But I know yours, Doctor Nathaniel Gowen! And I want far more than just a gorgeous, but impersonal smile from you… Far more…

And especially when he makes that slow, wide sweep, with his hands scything elegantly, and his muscular thighs flexing and drawing his thin workout trousers tight across his groin. He turns, pivoting, and as he shifts his weight, his eyes close again in a way that’s almost angelic, despite his total masculinity. The sight of so much brawn and beauty in juxtaposition like that makes my nether regions clench in urgent longing. I imagine him inside me, big and breathtaking, making me quiver.

© 2013 Portia Da Costa

Available from Amazon.co.uk, Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble Nook, Kobo and iBooks

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