" 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. "

― Olivia Parker , To Wed a Wicked Earl (Devine & Friends, #2)