" He admired the vintage ambiance, as well as Lara's backside as they headed down the center aisle. She was graceful, curvy; her hips hypnotized. The gentle sway of distracted him, and he walked into the corner of the soda fountain counter. The edge jabbed his hip. Painfully. Embarrassingly.
Fortunately, Lara hadn't noticed. She'd lowered herself onto a red leather stool and picked up a laminated menu. He rubbed his hip and dropped down beside her. The stools were close together, and Lara and he seemed almost attached in the small space. The slightest shift of their bodies and their thighs brushed. He stretched, reaching for a menu just as she withdrew a napkin from the metal holder. It was a moment neither of them could've expected or predicted. Yet one that would be imprinted in time. Forever. Her shorter legs parted and his knee pushed in. Way in. Connecting with her crotch.
She was jarred forward. Gasping. Her arms flayed. She clutched his thigh with one hand and saved herself from falling off the stool. Her fingertips inched near his zipper. So very close. An innocent reflex pressed her legs together, which only rooted him deeper into her. Her softness held him. Sensually snug.
His thigh muscles flexed, bunched. His stomach knotted. Awareness heated his body, and he stiffened. Her blazer parted, and he saw that her nipples were puckered beneath her white silk blouse. Responsive feminine points. "

― Donna Kauffman , The Bakeshop at Pumpkin and Spice (Moonbright, Maine #2)