Up to now, she would have sworn that all her sex hormones were in her head. Her three affairs had started because she’d found that the man shared her taste in literature or had interesting reasons why not, or because he was a witty conversationalist or because he made her laugh. Definitely not because his large, strong hands, which had a light dusting of black hairs on the backs, rested with easy, elegant competence on the wheel, or because the muscles in his forearm did a fascinating dance every time he shifted gears or because when he popped the clutch, thick muscles played under the jeans from his knees to his groin… Julia whipped her head around and stared blindly out the window.
Ok, I think it's been fairly well established that I have a problem with insta-lust, I get nothing from reading it. But I would also make the argument that I usually don't get anything from it is because usually I feel like it is written so empty.
This passage right here, I believe in this lust. Maybe because I also have had lip biting moments watching a man drive but it's also due to this writing. This couple is insta-lust but wooooo boy am I not only believing in it because of this, example if you will, but am feeling very invested in this heating up romance.
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