She wasn’t the type of woman he would normally be interested in. He liked slim women—sexy and alluring.

But she was different. She was more sweet than sensual, but her smile could make his knees weak. He liked when she wore short skirts and her soft, delicate thighs brushed against each other. He liked when she wore tight sweaters that emphasized her sweet, soft belly. He liked her small hands, fitting so well into his large, warm, rough ones.

She was a bigger girl, but it suited her. It made her seem even more adorable, and her delicate, soft body would yield under his touch. He wanted to touch every inch of her warm skin and drown in her sweet love.

The day was rather hot, yet it didn’t seem to bother them. He stood in front of the open hood of his car, his hands dirty with black grease as he worked on the engine. Sweat glistened on his forehead and neck, making his hair stick to his brow.

She sat nearby on a soft, wool blanket, her eyes glued to the book in her hands. Her white summer dress hugged her sweet body in all the places he loved the most, and he couldn’t help but glance at her again and again, trying to capture her sweet image in his memory.