" I realized I was staring. I felt a burn deep in my gut, as if I'd just done a few hundred sit-ups. Heat flushed my skin. My cock swelled rapidly, and there was a painful ache in my balls, an intense physical longing so sharp it was like a knife jab. Fuck.
Fuck!
There was no way to avoid the truth this time--the hard-on was mine. "

― Eli Easton , Blame It on the Mistletoe (Blame It on the Mistletoe, #1)