Turn It Up (26 page)
Damn, he was fine. Half the time, she convinced herself that she’d prettied him up, made him more attractive in her memories, but staring at him now, she knew that mental picture was Kodak-clear. For one night, she’d been the center of his world. They’d shared more than sex; he’d listened, focused on her and heard what she had said. Being his lady, even for a brief moment, had been a precious gift. It had almost been too hard to slide from his bed the next morning. She’d learned to be careful what you wished for because letting the wish go once you’d held it sucked.
“How
did
you find me?”
“I needed clean socks.” His smile should be listed on the CDC website because it sent her stomach into shivers and set her skin to tingling. “I’m working on the new 911 center over in Millerton. I didn’t know you’d be here. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather when I saw you.”
Feather? Yeah, that is not the force that slammed into her when he’d walked in the door. More like she got whapped with a horny stick. His china-blue gaze fringed with coal-black lashes caressed her from toe to nose and her nipples tightened. A warm pulse formed between her legs. How many sex acts had they done that night? She’d lost count and was sure that shower thing was a new position he’d dreamed up. God knows, he’d filled her dreams nightly for five months. She woke every morning sweaty, empty, and with a gnawing hunger only he had ever satisfied. Her libido growled, demanding to be fed, but she slid around him, waving goodbye to two customers.
He caught her just in front of him, his arm halting her path and drawing her closer to his frame. “So what
is
your name?”
The sultry purr in his tone drew her gaze up and vivid sexual longing sizzled between them. Oh yeah, he was hungry too. His eyes dropped to watch her tongue slick across her lip. Her mouth watered at memories and the buffet she saw unfolding in front of her now. No one said she couldn’t she go back for seconds. She licked her lips again just to feel his chest rise with a deep inhale. Feminine power filled her, and she returned his purr, gliding her fingers along his biceps.
“Now, where’s the fun in telling you that? I like being mysterious.”
“Mysterious? You are that.” Deep, dark and thick with desire, his voice melted like chocolate and a craving gripped her. Bram in the throes of orgasm was a luscious, intoxicating sound. God, he was delicious and she wanted more. He angled closer, until his warm breath whispered on her cheek. “You’re not going to tell me?”
“No.” If she leaned two inches in, she could kiss him.
“That’s not fair.” Bram shifted one inch closer.
“All’s fair in…whatever.”
“It wouldn’t take me three seconds to find out your name. All I’d have to do is go next door to the”—he turned his head and read through the window—“Flower Power Florist and ask.”
She poked his ribs. “That’d be cheating. Play my game, Bram.”
“Come on, you owe me. You stole my shirt.”
A smile curved her mouth. “Fair exchange. You ripped my dress.”
“So I did.” His low chuckle was tinged with sinful temptation. “Should I apologize?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Good. I don’t want to.”
She could plant her lips right on his and dip her tongue into his mouth. If she moved. One inch. A scant distance. He smelled of coffee, brisk wind and pure male. Her heart galloped in her chest, echoing a sudden pulse in her pussy. He oozed sex appeal like an over-wet sponge and she wanted to suck every drop. One damn inch was all she needed. She closed the gap.
Lust exploded. Her ears popped with the force of the attraction, and a low sigh heated her mouth before he deepened the kiss to indecent levels. She could distinctly recall three kisses in her life—Bobby Allegro behind the gym in fifth grade, Cliff Meyers on prom night and Bram, on a makeshift fire-department parking-lot dance floor.
In the long months they’d been apart, she hadn’t forgotten his kiss. She was so screwed.
They have a history. A future may be more than she’s willing to give.
Two Step Temptation
© 2011 Emma Jay
Haven Reynolds is stunned when her ex-lover Eric Viera turns up at their mutual friends’ wedding. Her sources told her he was safely a continent away, doing his anthropology thing. Instead she’s scrambling to figure out how to fend off his particularly potent brand of charm.
At least, that’s what she tells herself.
Several months in a Costa Rican jungle hasn’t dulled Eric’s memory of the two weeks he spent with the sexy spitfire. He’d even enjoyed the challenge of breaking through her walls—the warm, passionate woman he’d uncovered had been worth the effort. He’d like nothing better than to pick up where they left off, except those walls are back in place, stronger than ever.
Much to Haven’s dismay, Eric takes her in his arms for a rehearsal-dinner dance. In a split second, it all comes back—the memories, the lust and laughter, the intimacy and control she’s never allowed any other man. Falling for him again is out of the question, but a weekend of hot sex is an indulgence she can’t resist.
Except Eric hasn’t come back to Texas just for the wedding. He’s come for her.
Warning: Contains a sassy heroine, sizzlin’ hero, toe-stomping two-stepping and secret encounters.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Two Step Temptation:
She’d just finished removing her eye shadow and mascara when a knock sounded at the door. She padded across the plush carpet and turned the knob.
Her heart bounced hard off her ribs when she saw Eric standing there.
“No.” She stepped back, her hand on the edge of the door. “You have to go.”
“Haven.” He cupped her cheek, his touch so familiar, bringing all her desires to the surface. “Let me in.”
Voices carried up the stairwell. Jill. Haven reached out to yank Eric into the room. He stumbled past her and she closed the door, not wanting to have to explain why Eric was visiting her. She faced him and folded her arms over her robe, conscious that she wore nothing beneath it. Could he tell? She pulled the neckline higher and tried not to shiver. Eric was in her room, the bed only a few feet away. “What do you want?”
“You.”
The one word kicked up her pulse and she pressed her back to the door. “We agreed it was over eight months ago.”
He stepped closer. “You’re here, I’m here. We know what each other likes. We know everything about each other’s bodies.”
The pictures he drew in her mind were too enticing, and she wished she could close her eyes to erase it. That would reveal too much. “How long since you’ve had sex?” She lifted her chin, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.
He angled his head and smiled. “You tell me. Eight months?”
She couldn’t stop the quick intake of breath. Eric Viera, sex on legs, hadn’t had sex since he’d been with her? What the hell was she supposed to make of that information? And why did it make her so happy?
“You?” he asked softly, taking another step.
“Same,” she admitted.
A smug smile curved his lips. “Then?”
His fingers twined in the ends of her hair. Did he remember how much she loved that, the play of his fingers and her hair against her skin? She parted her lips and he took it for an invitation, covering her mouth with his.
This was something she couldn’t reenact. She could touch herself and imagine his mouth between her legs. She could fire up her vibrator and imagine him fucking her. But nothing could duplicate his kiss, the skilled play of his lips and tongue that seemed to remember all her favorite moves. His fingers trailed from her hair, down her throat to her shoulder and back, drawing her against him. Did he realize she wore nothing underneath the robe? He would, soon, because her legs parted of their own volition, letting his hips nudge closer to hers. Already she grew slick and swollen, and she barely stopped herself from tilting her hips to rub against him. How could her body betray her so fully?
She pressed her palm to his chest, intending to push him away, but her fingers had other ideas, clutching at his shirt, feeling his heart pounding, as affected as she was. He eased back and she opened her mouth to tell him to go, but his lips found that tender spot below her ear, his short goatee adding another layer of sensation to the caress, and her pussy squeezed with anticipation of having him inside her.
Only that couldn’t happen. She had to stop him.
Instead, her hand curved around the back of his head and she tilted her chin to allow him freer access to her throat. More than anything, she wanted to rub along the hard ridge of the erection he’d been sporting since they danced, wanted to make herself come apart in his arms, but she kept her feet flat on the ground, her hips still, willing herself to have some control of the situation, though she was fast spiraling away from that resolution.
“Missed you,” he murmured against her skin, stroking his thumb over her shoulder through the thick terry robe. “Missed your taste, missed your voice, missed your laugh. Missed your body.”
Send him away. Send him away now. You don’t want to pine over him for another eight months.
If only her hormones would heed her head. No, they were already seduced. She huffed a breath. She’d get him out of her system tonight. She wouldn’t have time for him tomorrow in the flurry of wedding preparations. Even if they made love again tomorrow night, they’d part ways Sunday. Not enough time to get attached to him again.
“Just tonight.”
He eased back, his expression wary. “I didn’t just come here to make love to you. I want to talk about—”
She loosened the belt of her robe and let it fall to the floor. With a growl, he gathered her against him, one hand splayed across her hip, the other coursing up her naked thigh.
“God, touch me, Eric.”
He curved his fingers around her breast, the calluses of his palms rough on the tender skin, the sensation making her wetter. Now she tilted her hips forward, seeking satisfaction by rubbing along his cock, still in his slacks.
He set her away from him, hands firm on her hips. “The bed,” he managed as he unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt and dragged it over his head, then unhooked his slacks in record time and dropped them to the floor.
His magnificent body was better now than it had been eight months ago, lean, muscular, and God, his penis was long and hard. Suddenly she remembered every stroke, from every time he’d made love to her. Memories were powerful things. She lowered herself to the soft, pillowy bedding without taking her gaze from him.
“Condom?” she asked as he approached, cock bobbing with the movement. Funny how they both seemed to have lost the ability to speak in complete sentences.
“I knew I was going to see you, didn’t I?”
“Mm. We have language,” she murmured, leaning back on her elbows and drawing up her knees. “Get it.” She nodded toward his pants on the floor.
“Not yet.” He braced his hands between her feet on the bed and parted her legs. “It’s been a long time since I tasted you. Christ, Haven, you’re wet.”
“Um.” His breath along the inside of her thighs didn’t help. She wanted his mouth on her more than she wanted to breathe. But, “I want to come with you inside me.”
“You will,” he said with that maddening grin and lowered his head.
Turn It Up
Vivian Arend
She wants it. He’s got it…and a whole lot more.
The Turner Twins, Book 2
Maxwell Turner considers his stubborn and resourceful attitude a plus. After all, it usually gets him what he wants—except for Natasha Bellingham. The long-time family friend may be ten years older than he, but so what? He’s plenty old enough to know they belong together. Now all he has to do is convince her.
Over the past few years Natasha’s love life has degenerated into a series of bad clichés. Her biological clock is ticking—loudly. As a proven architect with her own house-design company, she’s financially ready for a baby. Who says she needs a permanent man in her life for that? She just needs a “donation”.
When Max discovers Natasha’s future plans include artificial insemination, he’s outraged. She wants to get pregnant? No problem. He’s more than willing to volunteer—no turkey basters involved.
But there’s one non-negotiable clause: He wants forever. And he intends to do everything in his power—fair and unfair—to make it happen.
Warning: This title contains one younger man ready, aimed and hell bent on giving one woman everything she wants. Includes interludes against the wall, in a Jacuzzi, on a car hood and even—shockingly enough—on a bed or two. Oh, and about that porch swing? Yup…
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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.
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Turn It Up
Copyright © 2011 by Vivian Arend
ISBN: 978-1-60928-359-9
Edited by Anne Scott
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: February 2011
