About The Book:
Title: Layers Deep (Layers Trilogy #1)
Author: Lacey Silks
Genres: Contemporary, Erotica, Romance
Publication Date: December 4th 2013
He needs her to save a friend.
She needs him to plan her revenge.
Their pasts scar them Layers Deep.
Their passion distracts them…
…and distractions can be fatal.
Tristan Cross is battling emotional demons from the past. He lives in a world where trust is earned, loyalties are tested, and love is impossible. That is, until he meets Allie Green. She’s the only woman who can help him find a kidnapped friend and to top it off, she captivates him. All he has to do now is persuade her to work for Cross Enterprises, his top investigations firm.
Allie Green is a rookie cop seeking revenge and she’s willing to sell her soul to get it. With an opportunity to use Tristan Cross’s resources Allie calculates her time for payback. As vengeance boils her blood she can’t keep her mind off her new boss and Allie finds it difficult to keep her employment professional. With the mouth watering Tristan Cross distracting her, she struggles to prioritize an undercover job she’s been assigned and her hunger for revenge.
And when you’re ready to give up your life to save someone else, distractions can be fatal.
Note: This book is the first part of a Trilogy that is designed to be read in order. Tristan and Allie will get their happy ending but not until book 2 and 3. This book contains a cliff hanger ending you will not expect. A prequel to the series which can be read alone is Dazzled by Silver.
Warning: This title contains erotic situations, and graphic language. Intended for adult audience 18+
Excerpt 1:
He took a deep breath of courage and then exhaled, saying, “I should have done this yesterday. If I don’t taste your lips, I won’t get any work done.”
I couldn’t even reply. In an instant, my words were muffled by his mouth, and everything inside me shut down. My body went limp, melting into the seat as my arms flopped at my sides. His hands cupped my face, the pads of his thumbs caressing my cheeks back and forth as his tongue spread my lips, sliding into my willing mouth. He explored inside me, tending to every nook. The longing of his soft kiss pulsed through my whole body, and I forgot who I was and where I was. I had no strength to resist him. I could no longer deny Cross and responded to him, opening my mouth wider, letting my tongue dance with his. A hint of scotch flowed to me as he lingered around my gums and moaned deep inside me. If I had ten tequila shots, all at once, I doubted they’d knock me off my feet as hard as Cross had. The world spun, the car spun, and when he finally pulled away, I couldn’t believe what had happened and how much his kiss awakened the woman inside me.
“You taste much better than I imagined,” he said into my lips, leaning his forehead against mine.
I finally let out the long held breath and asked, “Imagined?”
“I wondered about your lips all night and couldn’t sleep. Now I don’t have to wonder anymore.”
Compose yourself! I thought. This trip is important.
“I’m glad I satisfied your curiosity.” Everything inside me was turning at the thought of Cross thinking about my lips. Who was this woman sitting in his car? I’d never allowed anyone to leave me so breathless and lightheaded and thinking about stupid giddy feelings instead of a ruthless life.
“You satisfied only one of them. I’m curious about the rest of your body too.”
Excerpt 2:
My feet pressed to the floor as the elevator lifted against gravity. Tristan turned, facing me. His sultry stare bore through my body, and I felt my back press against the mirrored wall.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to hold power over me; no man ever had. I was a cop. A strong cop who wasn’t swayed by crying mothers, cute puppies, or gorgeous hunks speeding in their Ferraris, offering everything they owned and more. But I was also a woman – and to Tristan, my body responded of its own accord. I felt my breasts swell and I wished I’d worn a dress with a larger top: one that could hold the twins in better. Tristan didn’t seem to mind.
“So, what will two thousand dollars buy me, sweetheart?”
Even if we were playing, I had a feeling this was going to be one hell of an interview—one of the best ones I’d ever had.
“Whatever you want.” I wondered how far he’d go, and how far I’d allow him to go. I already knew what he wanted. My instincts were solid, especially the hormonal ones. My body had secretly ached for his touch since he’d walked into the auditorium. And that one deep kiss we’d shared in his car was like a teasing spoonful of chocolate cake. I craved chocolate cake; and not just a bite.
And before I could say another word, Tristan crushed his mouth to mine, possessing it like he owned me, spreading my lips apart with his needy tongue. The hint of scotch still lingered in his mouth. And at this moment, he did own me. Every. Single. Piece of me.
His grip on my wrists above my head would have normally enraged me. But tonight I wasn’t a cop, and his strong and demanding fingers wrapped around my hands like cuffs, burning me with a long-forgotten yearning.
The force of his lips devoured mine, his tongue exploring my mouth. The few moans that escaped me, Tristan swallowed. I had no room to breathe and found hardly enough strength to stand on my legs.
He let go of my mouth and trailed his lips along my jaw to my cheek and ear before lowering down my neck, pinning me against the wall. Oh, God, he felt so good against my body. Everything inside me twisted and tightened and released in unbearable pulses between my thighs. I breathed him in, the oak smell of his scotch imprinted in his skin and in his hair.
The elevator halted and Tristan jolted up as if he’d just realized what he’d done. He searched my eyes with his as if asking permission to go on. And for the first time tonight, doubt crept in. He leaned his forehead against mine.
“We can’t do this. I’m your employee,” I whispered into his mouth. But inside, I laughed at my own unconvincing words, feeling the heat between my legs penetrate my dampened panties.
The open elevator door chimed the second time.
“Your body says we can.” He cupped my engorged breasts, one in each hand, squeezing them in slow motion, feeling their full weight.
I held my breath, pushing my chest into his palms, filling them.
He looked straight into my eyes. “And you’re not hired until the morning.”
“Whatever you want.” I wondered how far he’d go, and how far I’d allow him to go. I already knew what he wanted. My instincts were solid, especially the hormonal ones. My body had secretly ached for his touch since he’d walked into the auditorium. And that one deep kiss we’d shared in his car was like a teasing spoonful of chocolate cake. I craved chocolate cake; and not just a bite.
And before I could say another word, Tristan crushed his mouth to mine, possessing it like he owned me, spreading my lips apart with his needy tongue. The hint of scotch still lingered in his mouth. And at this moment, he did own me. Every. Single. Piece of me.
His grip on my wrists above my head would have normally enraged me. But tonight I wasn’t a cop, and his strong and demanding fingers wrapped around my hands like cuffs, burning me with a long-forgotten yearning.
The force of his lips devoured mine, his tongue exploring my mouth. The few moans that escaped me, Tristan swallowed. I had no room to breathe and found hardly enough strength to stand on my legs.
He let go of my mouth and trailed his lips along my jaw to my cheek and ear before lowering down my neck, pinning me against the wall. Oh, God, he felt so good against my body. Everything inside me twisted and tightened and released in unbearable pulses between my thighs. I breathed him in, the oak smell of his scotch imprinted in his skin and in his hair.
The elevator halted and Tristan jolted up as if he’d just realized what he’d done. He searched my eyes with his as if asking permission to go on. And for the first time tonight, doubt crept in. He leaned his forehead against mine.
“We can’t do this. I’m your employee,” I whispered into his mouth. But inside, I laughed at my own unconvincing words, feeling the heat between my legs penetrate my dampened panties.
The open elevator door chimed the second time.
“Your body says we can.” He cupped my engorged breasts, one in each hand, squeezing them in slow motion, feeling their full weight.
I held my breath, pushing my chest into his palms, filling them.
He looked straight into my eyes. “And you’re not hired until the morning.”
Excerpt 3:
And he’d called me “beautiful” again.
“I need to shower and hand in my resignation.”
“The shower’s that way.” He pointed to the en-suite. “Trust me. Allie, you don’t want to go out with the clothes you had on yesterday.” Tristan strolled toward me like a predator. And now I was sure he was happy to see me.
“These are the only clothes I have.” I heard a slight vibration in my voice. This had never happened to me. He had changed me from a fierce lioness out on the street who didn’t care how she looked to a smitten kitten in bed. Even when I’d had sex before, I’d never let my guard down the way I could with Tristan. Last night, I’d let go of every last thought and worry. I’d forgotten about work and my life, and the revenge I sought no longer loomed in my mind. Tristan had taken care of Wright for me.
So why was I so nervous this morning? We were two consenting adults who’d just had mind-blowing sex. There was nothing wrong with what we did, except for the fact that the tingling between my legs increased with each step Tristan took toward me. I wanted more. My body needed more. And he was the only one who could satisfy the yearning inside me. But it was supposed to be a one-time fuck, so I could concentrate on the job—so that Tristan could be my employer without crossing the ‘sexual harassment’ line. With Tristan only a foot away, and his steaming body breathing in tandem with mine, I couldn’t escape. And I didn’t want to escape. The pull was too strong. I felt my clothes slip out of my grip. Or perhaps I dropped them?
Interview Questions About Erotic Writing:
What authors do you think write excellent erotic fiction?
There are so many of them and each one has a unique style and voice. I love Raine Miller, H.M. Ward, Selena Kitt, Kitty French, Elle Casey, Sylvia Day.... .... this list can go on forever.
How do you judge what makes a good erotic story when writing your own fiction?
For me it's the effect the scene or story has on my own emotions. Since I've written it, I know what will happen, and if those words can still conjure feelings I'm trying to evoke after reading it ten or fifteen times, then it's a good story. I like twists, turns and pushing my characters to their limit. And if they reach that limit, I push some more.
Who is your favorite erotic author and why?
It has to be Selena Kitt. She introduced me to erotica. Selena writes pretty much everything and it amazes me how many titles she has published. Her stories are clear, concise and emotionally titillating. Everything you'd want in erotica.
What is your favorite erotic book and why?
This one changes frequently. At this moment it's Tangled by Emma Chase. It's written from a male point of view and Drews voice is so clear as to who he is. I honestly cannot believe a woman wrote this novel. His thoughts are written so well, as if it was done by a man. And it's so funny. My stomach hurt from laughing while I read the story.
What research books do you recommend for authors starting out in writing erotica?
Every author should have an Erotic Thesaurus created by Morgan Hawke.
Another good one is Emotion Thesaurus by Becca Puglisi and Angela Ackerman.
I also enjoyed "How To Write Hot Sex" for tips from multi-published erotic authors.
An absolute must is "Be A Sex-Writing Trumpet" by Stacia Kane. It's probably one of my favorites.
What advice would you give an author who wants to write erotica?
Best stories come from the heart. Write what you know and if you don't know it, research it. The best part of writing erotica is the 'field research'. The questions I'd asked my husband about male anatomy even surprised me. Sometimes you try positions to make sure they work (and sometimes you argue with your editors whether they work which makes it all the more interesting if they work for you and not for them). Probably the best advice is to read, and to read a lot.
If you were stranded on a desert island and were only allowed to have five modern conveniences with you, what would they be?
Alone, no man, can the batteries last forever? I'm assuming my hands would be too tired from the work I'd have to do to survive so:
1. A very good, long lasting, vibrating, back massager (hey, what were you thinking?).
2. My kindle with everlasting power. It would have to be full of book too as I'm assuming there's no internet.
3. A bidet - this one's self explanatory. If you've never used one, do so and you'll know what I mean. I love my bidet as much as my shower. And it could be used as a source of water too!
4. TV with Netflix and all the shows I love to watch (Gray's Anatomy, Survivor, Game of Thrones, True Blood, Vampire Diaries etc...)
5. A plane full of fuel so that if I got bored I could fly back to civilization (yes, we're assuming here I can fly, which I can't, so perhaps a speed boat would be easier).
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