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Authors: Delilah Devlin

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Reaching for the cotton pants, she wished she had something sexier to slide inside, then wondered if she’d lost her good sense to think that way. She had enough problems on her plate. But how could she dress and prevent him seeing what this was doing to her? Bending and opening her legs to step into the sweatpants made her feel vulnerable, exposed in a way that just standing there naked hadn’t. “I don’t understand you, or why you’re doin’ this.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I guess that’s true. It’s been a long time.”

“You didn’t know me then.”

She pulled the pants upward, over the curve of her bottom, feeling a little less off-center now that her lower half was hidden from his view. The waist of the pants settled on her hips and she rolled the band to gather up the excess fabric. “Guess that’ll have to do,” she muttered.

As she dragged the T-shirt over her head, she reminded herself why she was here. Definitely not to play games with her ex-boyfriend. She needed a safe place to stay. And she needed to keep Colt clueless until she had a chance to find her car and get rid of the damning evidence before the police found it. Her story might sound a little more believable then.

When she’d pulled the fabric down, fully covering her body, only then did she raise her glance to Colt’s again.

His brows pulled together. “Gonna tell me what’s going on? Why you’re here?”

“I’m a little hungry,” she said, knowing her attempt to stall was completely transparent. “I don’t suppose I could eat first?”

Colt dropped his fists and stepped closer, forcing her chin higher to hold his steady gaze. “If you’re in trouble…”

What? He’d help? She didn’t think so. Colt appeared to be the same inflexible cowboy. He’d always judged a person’s actions as either black or white, right or wrong. No interesting muddying of the colors accepted. She’d forgotten that about him.

She pondered telling him part of the tale, but worried he’d use what he learned to play with her some more. He seemed to like that fact he held the reins.

Zuri licked her lips. “I need a place to stay. Just for a little while.”

His gray eyes, once so warm and open, narrowed. A muscle flexed alongside his jaw.

She waited him out, knowing he wasn’t satisfied with her response. The longer the moment stretched between them, the more uncomfortable she grew. Still holding his steady gaze, she shifted her bare feet, supremely conscious of the fact she wasn’t wearing a stitch of underwear and that his clothing, while freshly laundered, still carried the hint of his unique scent. She was at his mercy. Completely.

Colt inhaled deeply, and then issued a soft, masculine grunt. He reached down and closed his hand around hers, then tugged her closer to the bed. He sat on the edge, staring at their hands before he looked up. “If you stay…you’ll sleep here,” he said, his voice tense and ragged.

Zuri wet her lips with her tongue because her mouth had suddenly gone dry. What he proposed sounded both so…wrong, yet incredibly tempting. She couldn’t get words past her tightening throat. If she could have, she didn’t know whether she would have told him to go to hell or given him a breathless yes. Instead, she squeezed his fingers.

So many thoughts swirled in her mind. Their past, her impossibly complicated present. It sounded so simple. She’d sleep beside him. Make love with him. Maybe she’d even find out that her memories of their being together were painted in rosy hues because she’d been younger, and he’d been her first.

Perhaps in exchange he’d give her clothes and money so that she could make a graceful exit.

Zuri crowded closer to his knees, tilting her chin.

Colt’s lips curved slightly at the corners, and although his gaze remained narrow, he scooted back.

She climbed over his lap, facing him, her thighs sliding over the outside of his, not saying a word, following her instincts although they’d led her down treacherous paths before. She slipped her hand alongside his neck, felt the heavy thrum of his pulse and bent down, her mouth hovering above his. “Think you can keep this uncomplicated, cowboy?”

A deep, throaty groan seeped between his lips, and she leaned into him, settling over the ridge throbbing beneath the placket of his jeans. She could do this. She could take what she wanted from him without losing her heart again. It was just sex.

Their love never died, but her secrets could break his trust beyond repair.

 

Texas Two Step

© 2012 Cynthia D’Alba

 

Texas Montgomery Mavericks, Book 1

After six years and too much self-recrimination, rancher Mitch Landry is ready to admit he was wrong. He’d loved Olivia Montgomery but commitment wasn’t high on his list back then. That was his first mistake. He’s just divorced his second, and he’s set to do whatever it takes to convince Olivia to give him another try.

Through hard work, determination and more than a few tears, Olivia survived the break-up with Mitch. She’s rebuilt her life around her business and the son she loves more than life itself. She’s not proud of the mistakes she’s made—particularly the secrets she’s kept—but when life hands you manure, you use it to make something better of yourself…lest you get stuck in it.

At a hot, muggy Dallas wedding, they reconnect. Olivia’s first instinct is to play it cool, but after one devastating kiss things flare real out of control, real fast. Maybe a quick roll in the hay will get him out of her system once and for all. Funny thing about hay though, once it’s tangled in your hair, getting it out risks revealing things that were never meant to see the light of day. Warning: Bourbon shooters, shirtless cowboys, and a hot rendezvous or two…

Warning: Contains hot sex, a vindictive ex-wife and hot chocolate-chip cookies.

 

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Texas Two Step:

He kissed her and the world stopped revolving. She swayed into him. Ran her fingers into his thick, wavy hair. Stroked his tongue with hers. Tasted the champagne inside of his mouth. Sucked gently on his tongue. Soaked him up like an arid desert in an unexpected rainstorm.

Olivia could have blamed the dim lights, or the romantic setting, or even Mitch’s raw animal magnetism for her response to his kiss. Instead, she admitted she wanted this night, this man, his touch, his kiss. All of her fantasies started this way.

Could reality be as good as her imagination?

What would it be like to be with him again? Make love with him again?

There was curiosity, but that wasn’t what was driving her response to his kiss. Desire ran rampant through her veins. A soul-deep lust consumed her.

Their love story was history, so she’d waste no time planning a future that would never come. She’d take what he offered, take what she wanted. Here and now, not a future. Tonight was all there was. She’d not walk away from his arms until she’d gotten what she needed.

Mitch’s mouth scorched her lips as he took her mouth with a rough passion that left no doubt of his intentions. He pulled the pins holding her chignon and threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her head in place as he plundered her mouth with his tongue.

Returning his kiss with a fervor matching his, she allowed the all-consuming yearning to fill her. The desire to touch him, be close to him, make love with him overwhelmed her.

She flattened her hands against his chest. His heat seared through the shirt’s material and burned into her flesh. She stroked hard muscles sculpted from years of physical labor. His nipples stiffened to her caress. The soft cotton of his shirt teased the nerve endings in her palms.

He leaned his huge body over her and cupped her breast in his work-roughened hand. He squeezed and flicked her now distended nipple.

Ripples of sexual longing echoed through her. She moaned into his mouth and, arching her back, pressed her breast firmly into his palm, wordlessly begging for more.

Mitch gave her what she wanted, fondling and stroking her breasts until she wanted to rip her clothes off. She groaned, burning with a frantic desperation to feel skin against skin.

Olivia slipped the buttons on his shirt through the holes with ease. She separated the shirt’s edges until she could feel the crinkle of his chest hair and the direct hot flesh of his chest beneath her hands.

The tantalizing scent of Mitch filled her nose. She’d probably smelled the same cologne on other men, but the cologne’s interaction with Mitch’s body chemistry produced a bouquet unlike any other on Earth. She lowered her head to his chest, first kissing then flicking her tongue on his turgid nipple before wrapping her lips around it. His skin was a dichotomy. Sweet and salty. Dangerous and comforting. Past and present.

There’d be no turning back for her now. She’d had a sample of her addiction, and she had to have more.

When she sucked his nipple between her lips, he groaned and slid his hand under the hem of her dress. Her abdominal muscles danced and jerked when his thick fingers touched her inner thigh.

He stroked fingers along the inside of her thigh, the silk of her stockings tickling and enflaming her flesh at the same time. “Your silk stockings drive me wild,” he said, nibbling along her chin. “Your skin was always silky and smooth. I love to touch you. I’ve always loved to touch you. I loved the way you moaned and twisted at my touch. The way your eyes would glaze over when I stroked you.” His hand moved higher, stopping at the top of the stocking. “But tonight, I want—no, need—to see you in these stockings. These stockings, my necklace and nothing else.” His voice was coarse and guttural and harsh.

Olivia quivered at his words. Emotional fires she’d suppressed since finding out she was pregnant with Adam flared. She’d believed them stomped out and dead. She’d been wrong. She was dry tinder to his lit match.

He stood, took her hand, pulled her to standing.

Her legs were weak and rubbery, threatening to collapse under his relentless assault.

Gazing intensely into her eyes, he said, “I want you. I want to be deep inside you. If you want to stop, say it now, because in a minute I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

He waited. Gave her time to say no. Gave her time for rationality to return.

But she didn’t want rational thoughts. Didn’t want to think about tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. Didn’t want to let go of all the sensations surging through her.

She’d made up her mind when she’d unbuttoned the first button on his shirt. For her, there was no going back.

She shook her head. “Don’t stop. Please.”

In Too Deep

 

 

 

Delilah Devlin

 

 

 

 

Some things never change. And some things change everything.

 

Triple Horn Brand, Book 2

Gabe Triplehorn can think of no better getaway from his heavy responsibilities at the ranch, than to go back to a time and place where he didn’t have a care in the world. When there was just a campground, a river and a girl.
 

When he gets to Red Hawk Landing, the campground and the river are still there. He just never expected the girl would still be there too. Only now she runs the place.

Lena Twohig can think of no better place to raise her young son than the family-owned campground that holds so many memories. Especially the romance with Gabe that lit up one long-ago summer like a wild electrical storm. Now he’s back, with a ranch-hardened body she knows she shouldn’t want so badly.
 

No amount of lies or the years that have passed can tame this tidal wave of passion.

 

Warning: Contains a flash flood of passion between a cowboy who knows how to pitch a tent and a woman who isn’t afraid to get a little dirty.
 

eBooks are
not
transferable.

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

 

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

 

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B

Cincinnati OH 45249

 

In Too Deep

Copyright © 2013 by Delilah Devlin

ISBN: 978-1-61921-650-1

Edited by Heidi Moore

Cover by Angela Waters

 

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

 

First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: March 2013

www.samhainpublishing.com

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