Kevin Riley was the stuff fantasies were made of.

Her fantasies, to be exact.

Six foot five, heavily muscled, with the most beautifully intense blue eyes she’d ever seen, he captured her attention like no man ever had. And with his half-naked body in front of her and nature thrashing fiercely around her, it was all she could do to keep her clothes on, her mouth shut and her camera aimed somewhere besides his absolutely fabulous ass.

Not that he should mind—it was one of his best features, after all. And she was being paid, well paid, for taking pictures that showed his every side.

Of course, she wasn’t sure that fifty shots of his ass were quite what the publishers had had in mind when they’d hired her, no matter how glorious it was. Besides, her humming libido couldn’t handle much more without going into severe overdrive anyway.

Serena snorted before she could stop herself. Who was she kidding? She’d passed overdrive a while ago, was now heading straight toward spontaneous combustion at an alarming rate. The thought disturbed her and she moved restlessly, desperate to focus on something– anything–that could bring her traitorous body under control.

She glanced towards the large windows that covered an entire side of the old, red brick studio and tried to concentrate on the storm raging through Kevin’s little slice of bayou. But the wildness of it-the utter lack of control-only made her more uncomfortable.

Rain pummeled the tin roof, flashes of lightning illuminated the darkness beyond the house and thunder shook the studio as it exploded across the sky. Mother Nature was in a frenzy and much of southern Louisiana would pay the price on this steamy summer night.

She was just one more victim.

It was three a.m. and she should have been asleep, tucked safely into bed in her Baton Rouge condo. Nature whirled around her and she should have been terrified as she witnessed the destruction caused by every gust of seventy mile an hour winds. She was working and she should have been focused, completely absorbed in taking photos for the book that could blow her career wide open. But she wasn’t.

She wasn’t at home asleep, she wasn’t terrified and she certainly wasn’t focused.

What she was, was aroused.

Powerfully, frighteningly aroused.

Wetness pooled between her thighs, her nipples peaked and she had to work-hard—to stifle the moan threatening to part lips it was becoming harder and harder to keep closed.

She’d never been this out of control before, had never been so aroused that she couldn’t focus on anything but the throbbing ache between her thighs. Serena pressed her legs together, desperate to stem the sensations bombarding her. But it was no use. Heat swept through her body. Her skin flushed a rosy pink and her heart began to race as the fine tremor of arousal shook her, making hands that were normally rock-steady tremble with reaction.