Showing posts with label Penguin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Penguin. Show all posts
Monday, April 6, 2015
Sunday, January 11, 2015
Excerpt Blitz: Contradictions by Tiffany King
About The Book:
Title: Contradictions
Series: Woodfalls Girls #3
Author: Tiffany King
Release Date: January 6, 2015
When everything starts spinning out of control…
Three years into college, Tressa Oliver’s life is a nonstop party. She’s skating by in her classes, and there’s no shortage of drinking, dancing, and general hell-raising. The only aspect that hasn’t been much fun: She can’t shake the toxic jerks that always seem to gravitate toward her.
It will take someone totally wrong…
Trent Lawson is the classic anti-bad boy: smart, boring, and way too serious. To a wild girl like Tressa, there’s no way in hell they’re compatible—especially since Trent seems to see straight through her defenses.
To set her right.
When a college prank goes terribly wrong, Tressa starts to suspect that her partying ways are leading nowhere fast. Now she has to turn to the last person she ever thought she’d ask for help—and quickly discovers that there’s more to Trent than meets the eye.
Three years into college, Tressa Oliver’s life is a nonstop party. She’s skating by in her classes, and there’s no shortage of drinking, dancing, and general hell-raising. The only aspect that hasn’t been much fun: She can’t shake the toxic jerks that always seem to gravitate toward her.
It will take someone totally wrong…
Trent Lawson is the classic anti-bad boy: smart, boring, and way too serious. To a wild girl like Tressa, there’s no way in hell they’re compatible—especially since Trent seems to see straight through her defenses.
To set her right.
When a college prank goes terribly wrong, Tressa starts to suspect that her partying ways are leading nowhere fast. Now she has to turn to the last person she ever thought she’d ask for help—and quickly discovers that there’s more to Trent than meets the eye.
Excerpt:
I knocked on his door, thankful I’d had the foresight to grab my gloves before heading out. I was preparing to knock again after he didn’t answer when the door suddenly swung open.
My mild shock turned into downright "slap my ass and call me Dixie" surprise when I saw how he was dressed, or rather, undressed would be the more accurate description. He answered the door in nothing more than a towel, rendering me speechless.
My mouth dropped open as I took in the very male sight before me. My suspicions about what lay beneath the endless array of geeky shirts he was so fond of wearing had now been verified. Although, even in my wildest of dreams, I’m pretty sure I didn’t imagine this. Not that I had wild dreams about him. At least, not all the time.
With the towel knotted around his waist, I had an up-close and personal view of his very defined, and I loathed to admit, very lickable abs. I wasn’t even sure "six-pack" was the right word. Running my eyes down his naked torso, I’m pretty sure I counted an eight-pack. Eight delicious abs that glistened with droplets of water from the shower he had just stepped out of. My mouth began to water at the sight of him, and I’m pretty sure I even swayed a little. I wanted to reach out to feel if his muscles were as firm as they looked. God, the things I could do that chest, I thought.
"Hey, you’re early," he greeted me, using an extra towel to dry his hair. His words were like a torrent of cold water splashed on my face. I took an unsteady step backward. If he only knew how close I had come to reaching out and touching him. How could nerdy tee shirts and glasses hide that much hotness? That was the question. Hell, even his hair looked hot now that it was tousled from the towel dry he’d given it.
I croaked out an answer that was a garbled mess. He looked at me like I’d just fallen off the drunken train. Trying again, I cleared my throat, hoping for something that sounded more coherent. "Too jeep cold," I mumbled, realizing as I was talking that I had effed it up again.
His look turned to puzzlement as he tried to make sense of my rhyme. "Oh, sorry," he finally said, stepping back so I could enter his warm apartment. "It’s cold outside," he added, closing the door quickly behind me. I didn’t bother to correct him. Better for him to think it was the cold that had my tongue refusing to cooperate than the real reason. Trent didn’t need any more encouragement.
I skirted around him. Distance was my only ally at the moment.
"How’d your test go yesterday?" he asked, oblivious to the fact that I was secretly wishing for his towel to drop.
For the love of my horny sanity, could you please put on some clothes before I tear my panties off and jump on you? The words bounced around in my head like a rogue Ping-Pong ball. I was practically chanting them.
"Sorry. I’ll go get dressed," he said, giving me a strange look.
No way, did I utter that out loud? Please for the love of horny bitches everywhere, tell me that was all in my head. Son of a bitch, I couldn’t remember. I was stuck in some hypnotizing dick trance.
I needed to flee the scene while he was in his room getting dressed. That would be the only rational thing to do. Maybe I could tell him I was drunk. By the looks he’d been giving me, he probably assumed that already. I could go home and pretend this never happened. The mental image of his very bare chest floated through my dirty mind. My nether regions throbbed. That alone should have me fleeing the apartment like it was on fire. Only, it was me who was on fire. Damn it, Tressa. Get your mind out of the gutter.
"Tressa, you okay?" Trent asked.
I whirled around at the sound of my name. He was dressed, which was disappointing. No, wait. I was relieved. Definitely relieved. Holy monkey balls, my brain was officially broken.
Now would be the opportune time to use the drunken excuse, or even that I was abducted by aliens. He was a man of science. He would definitely buy the alien story. "I’m fine, just trying to warm up," I said, taking a deep breath. I was still feeling pretty hot and bothered, but that was for me to know.
"Oh. Let me turn the heat up," he offered.
Little did he know he’d already done that.
"I was working out earlier, so I kicked the heat down. I hate being hot while I’m lifting weights."
Too late for that. Seriously, I needed to be euthanized. My brain was a total traitor.
"Right," I muttered. "I hate being hot too." God, I still sounded like a blabbering idiot.
My mild shock turned into downright "slap my ass and call me Dixie" surprise when I saw how he was dressed, or rather, undressed would be the more accurate description. He answered the door in nothing more than a towel, rendering me speechless.
My mouth dropped open as I took in the very male sight before me. My suspicions about what lay beneath the endless array of geeky shirts he was so fond of wearing had now been verified. Although, even in my wildest of dreams, I’m pretty sure I didn’t imagine this. Not that I had wild dreams about him. At least, not all the time.
With the towel knotted around his waist, I had an up-close and personal view of his very defined, and I loathed to admit, very lickable abs. I wasn’t even sure "six-pack" was the right word. Running my eyes down his naked torso, I’m pretty sure I counted an eight-pack. Eight delicious abs that glistened with droplets of water from the shower he had just stepped out of. My mouth began to water at the sight of him, and I’m pretty sure I even swayed a little. I wanted to reach out to feel if his muscles were as firm as they looked. God, the things I could do that chest, I thought.
"Hey, you’re early," he greeted me, using an extra towel to dry his hair. His words were like a torrent of cold water splashed on my face. I took an unsteady step backward. If he only knew how close I had come to reaching out and touching him. How could nerdy tee shirts and glasses hide that much hotness? That was the question. Hell, even his hair looked hot now that it was tousled from the towel dry he’d given it.
I croaked out an answer that was a garbled mess. He looked at me like I’d just fallen off the drunken train. Trying again, I cleared my throat, hoping for something that sounded more coherent. "Too jeep cold," I mumbled, realizing as I was talking that I had effed it up again.
His look turned to puzzlement as he tried to make sense of my rhyme. "Oh, sorry," he finally said, stepping back so I could enter his warm apartment. "It’s cold outside," he added, closing the door quickly behind me. I didn’t bother to correct him. Better for him to think it was the cold that had my tongue refusing to cooperate than the real reason. Trent didn’t need any more encouragement.
I skirted around him. Distance was my only ally at the moment.
"How’d your test go yesterday?" he asked, oblivious to the fact that I was secretly wishing for his towel to drop.
For the love of my horny sanity, could you please put on some clothes before I tear my panties off and jump on you? The words bounced around in my head like a rogue Ping-Pong ball. I was practically chanting them.
"Sorry. I’ll go get dressed," he said, giving me a strange look.
No way, did I utter that out loud? Please for the love of horny bitches everywhere, tell me that was all in my head. Son of a bitch, I couldn’t remember. I was stuck in some hypnotizing dick trance.
I needed to flee the scene while he was in his room getting dressed. That would be the only rational thing to do. Maybe I could tell him I was drunk. By the looks he’d been giving me, he probably assumed that already. I could go home and pretend this never happened. The mental image of his very bare chest floated through my dirty mind. My nether regions throbbed. That alone should have me fleeing the apartment like it was on fire. Only, it was me who was on fire. Damn it, Tressa. Get your mind out of the gutter.
"Tressa, you okay?" Trent asked.
I whirled around at the sound of my name. He was dressed, which was disappointing. No, wait. I was relieved. Definitely relieved. Holy monkey balls, my brain was officially broken.
Now would be the opportune time to use the drunken excuse, or even that I was abducted by aliens. He was a man of science. He would definitely buy the alien story. "I’m fine, just trying to warm up," I said, taking a deep breath. I was still feeling pretty hot and bothered, but that was for me to know.
"Oh. Let me turn the heat up," he offered.
Little did he know he’d already done that.
"I was working out earlier, so I kicked the heat down. I hate being hot while I’m lifting weights."
Too late for that. Seriously, I needed to be euthanized. My brain was a total traitor.
"Right," I muttered. "I hate being hot too." God, I still sounded like a blabbering idiot.
About The Author:
USA Today Bestselling author Tiffany King is a lifelong reading fanatic who is now living her dream as a writer, weaving Young Adult and New Adult romance tales for others to enjoy. She has a loving husband and two wonderful kids. (Five, if you count her three spoiled cats). Her addictions include: Her iPhone and iPad, chocolate, Diet Coke, chocolate, Harry Potter, chocolate, zombies and her favorite TV shows. Want to know what they are? Just ask.
Friday, January 9, 2015
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Release Day: Contradictions by Tiffany King
About The Book:
Title: Contradictions
Series: Woodfalls Girls #3
Author: Tiffany King
Release Date: January 6, 2015
When everything starts spinning out of control…
Three years into college, Tressa Oliver’s life is a nonstop party. She’s skating by in her classes, and there’s no shortage of drinking, dancing, and general hell-raising. The only aspect that hasn’t been much fun: She can’t shake the toxic jerks that always seem to gravitate toward her.
It will take someone totally wrong…
Trent Lawson is the classic anti-bad boy: smart, boring, and way too serious. To a wild girl like Tressa, there’s no way in hell they’re compatible—especially since Trent seems to see straight through her defenses.
To set her right.
When a college prank goes terribly wrong, Tressa starts to suspect that her partying ways are leading nowhere fast. Now she has to turn to the last person she ever thought she’d ask for help—and quickly discovers that there’s more to Trent than meets the eye.
Three years into college, Tressa Oliver’s life is a nonstop party. She’s skating by in her classes, and there’s no shortage of drinking, dancing, and general hell-raising. The only aspect that hasn’t been much fun: She can’t shake the toxic jerks that always seem to gravitate toward her.
It will take someone totally wrong…
Trent Lawson is the classic anti-bad boy: smart, boring, and way too serious. To a wild girl like Tressa, there’s no way in hell they’re compatible—especially since Trent seems to see straight through her defenses.
To set her right.
When a college prank goes terribly wrong, Tressa starts to suspect that her partying ways are leading nowhere fast. Now she has to turn to the last person she ever thought she’d ask for help—and quickly discovers that there’s more to Trent than meets the eye.
Excerpt:
The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the curtains as I stepped into his bedroom for the first time. I took a moment to take in the furnishings that matched, just like the rest of his apartment. His OCD was something I’d come to appreciate. The fascinating part was the king-sized bed in the middle of the room.
"King-size?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.
"I like to spread out," he said, placing his hands on my waist. "That’s why I have my own apartment. I realized freshman year I wasn’t suited for roommates. By midyear, my roommate was ready to kill me..." His voice trailed off as I began to unbutton his shirt.
"Are we going to talk about furniture, or are we going to use it?" I asked, helping him slide out of his shirt.
He answered by pulling me into his arms. My hands splayed across his back as his lips found mine. We stood in the middle of his room discovering each other. I can’t even say for sure how it happened, but somehow our clothes managed to end up in a pile on the floor.
I usually preferred the lights off and the room to be pitch black to hide my flaws. I tried to edge us toward the bed so I could at least hide beneath a blanket, but Trent held me in place as his lips trailed down my neck and over my shoulder.
"Where you going?" he asked, looking up from my shoulder.
"I thought we’d be more comfortable on the bed," I said, inching us closer. "Under the covers," I added.
"Are you cold?" he asked, looking concerned. He went with the flow, allowing me to lead us to his large bed.
I could have lied. I almost did, but the truth leaked out before I could tamp it back. "I’m not cold. I just prefer to do this part in the dark or under the covers."
He looked confused. "Why?"
"Because, I don’t like people to see my flaws," I admitted, exasperated.
"Flaws? You’re kidding, right?" he asked, taking a step back to admire my body.
I felt like I was on display and had to fight the urge to snatch the comforter from his bed to hide. "You don’t have to flatter me, Trent. I’m not going anywhere." My voice cracked slightly. I knew my body wasn’t perfect. Jackson had reminded me of it countless times while we dated.
"Tressa, come on. You’re smarter than that."
I cut him off. "Are you calling me stupid?" I asked, not sure if I should be offended.
"If you think there’s anything wrong with your body, then yes, I am," he said, circling his hands around my arms. His eyes scanned my body from head to toe. "Because from where I’m standing, everything looks damn perfect."
He unexpectedly swept me off my feet and carried me to the bed. We tumbled down together, laughing until he began to trace the curves of my body with his fingers. I closed my eyes and allowed my body to completely relax while he switched to using his mouth. He started at my shoulders, kissing his way across my neck. I raised my hands to his chest, but he pushed them back down. "Just relax and let me play," he said.
He continued to kiss his way down to my breasts while his free hand moved between my thighs. I couldn’t stop my body from reacting to his touch. Just lying there without being able to use my hands on him was torture.
"I want you now," I insisted. He climbed on top of me, using his knee to spread my legs apart. By the time he leveled his body over mine, I felt like I would die if he didn’t ease the throbbing inside me. My hands looped around his neck, pulling his mouth to mine as he entered me. Our bodies moved in a synchronized rhythm as we both sought release. I felt my orgasm approaching, but I fought to hold it off, not wanting the moment to end. I could tell Trent was close as his movements became faster and more forceful.
"Together," I whispered, looking into his eyes. Neither of us was able to hold back any longer.
He answered by plunging deep inside me one last time, sending us both over the edge. He kissed me tenderly before collapsing on top of me. Deep shudders rippled through him. I stroked a hand down his back, marveling at how good he felt against me. I felt completely sated and could have purred like a pleased feline. Sure, it’d been a long time for me, but I couldn’t remember it ever being like this.
"King-size?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.
"I like to spread out," he said, placing his hands on my waist. "That’s why I have my own apartment. I realized freshman year I wasn’t suited for roommates. By midyear, my roommate was ready to kill me..." His voice trailed off as I began to unbutton his shirt.
"Are we going to talk about furniture, or are we going to use it?" I asked, helping him slide out of his shirt.
He answered by pulling me into his arms. My hands splayed across his back as his lips found mine. We stood in the middle of his room discovering each other. I can’t even say for sure how it happened, but somehow our clothes managed to end up in a pile on the floor.
I usually preferred the lights off and the room to be pitch black to hide my flaws. I tried to edge us toward the bed so I could at least hide beneath a blanket, but Trent held me in place as his lips trailed down my neck and over my shoulder.
"Where you going?" he asked, looking up from my shoulder.
"I thought we’d be more comfortable on the bed," I said, inching us closer. "Under the covers," I added.
"Are you cold?" he asked, looking concerned. He went with the flow, allowing me to lead us to his large bed.
I could have lied. I almost did, but the truth leaked out before I could tamp it back. "I’m not cold. I just prefer to do this part in the dark or under the covers."
He looked confused. "Why?"
"Because, I don’t like people to see my flaws," I admitted, exasperated.
"Flaws? You’re kidding, right?" he asked, taking a step back to admire my body.
I felt like I was on display and had to fight the urge to snatch the comforter from his bed to hide. "You don’t have to flatter me, Trent. I’m not going anywhere." My voice cracked slightly. I knew my body wasn’t perfect. Jackson had reminded me of it countless times while we dated.
"Tressa, come on. You’re smarter than that."
I cut him off. "Are you calling me stupid?" I asked, not sure if I should be offended.
"If you think there’s anything wrong with your body, then yes, I am," he said, circling his hands around my arms. His eyes scanned my body from head to toe. "Because from where I’m standing, everything looks damn perfect."
He unexpectedly swept me off my feet and carried me to the bed. We tumbled down together, laughing until he began to trace the curves of my body with his fingers. I closed my eyes and allowed my body to completely relax while he switched to using his mouth. He started at my shoulders, kissing his way across my neck. I raised my hands to his chest, but he pushed them back down. "Just relax and let me play," he said.
He continued to kiss his way down to my breasts while his free hand moved between my thighs. I couldn’t stop my body from reacting to his touch. Just lying there without being able to use my hands on him was torture.
"I want you now," I insisted. He climbed on top of me, using his knee to spread my legs apart. By the time he leveled his body over mine, I felt like I would die if he didn’t ease the throbbing inside me. My hands looped around his neck, pulling his mouth to mine as he entered me. Our bodies moved in a synchronized rhythm as we both sought release. I felt my orgasm approaching, but I fought to hold it off, not wanting the moment to end. I could tell Trent was close as his movements became faster and more forceful.
"Together," I whispered, looking into his eyes. Neither of us was able to hold back any longer.
He answered by plunging deep inside me one last time, sending us both over the edge. He kissed me tenderly before collapsing on top of me. Deep shudders rippled through him. I stroked a hand down his back, marveling at how good he felt against me. I felt completely sated and could have purred like a pleased feline. Sure, it’d been a long time for me, but I couldn’t remember it ever being like this.
About The Author:
USA Today Bestselling author Tiffany King is a lifelong
reading fanatic who is now living her dream as a writer, weaving Young Adult
and New Adult romance tales for others to enjoy. She has a loving husband and
two wonderful kids. (Five, if you count her three spoiled cats). Her addictions
include: Her iPhone and iPad, chocolate, Diet Coke, chocolate, Harry Potter,
chocolate, zombies and her favorite TV shows. Want to know what they are? Just
ask.
Saturday, January 3, 2015
Countdown Celebration: Falling Away by Penelope Douglas
About The Book:
Title: Falling Away
Series: Fall Away #3
Author: Penelope Douglas
Release Date: January 6, 2015
Jaxon is the guy she’s supposed to avoid.K.C. is the girl he won’t let get away....
K. C. Carter has always followed the rules—until this year, when a mistake leaves her the talk of her college campus and her carefully arranged life comes crashing to a halt. Now she’s stuck in her small hometown for the summer to complete her court-ordered community service, and to make matters worse, trouble is living right next door.
Jaxon Trent is the worst kind of temptation and exactly what K.C. was supposed to stay away from in high school. But he never forgot her. She was the one girl who wouldn’t give him the time of day and the only one to ever say no. Fate has brought K.C. back into his life—except what he thought was a great twist of luck turns out to be too close for comfort. As they grow closer, he discovers that convincing K.C. to get out from her mother’s shadow is hard, but revealing the darkest parts of his soul is nearly impossible.
Excerpt - Chapter 5:
“So, how did this happen?” I asked, holding the gauze on his skin, under the cuts, to catch the saline.
His abs flexed, probably from the cold fluid, since saline didn’t sting, as I poured it over the cuts, cleaning them.
He sucked in air through his teeth. “Some of the science kids have greenhouses on the roof,” he grunted, and I almost laughed out loud. “Masters asked me to go up and make sure the roofs were closed, but I slipped coming back down the stairs. Scraped myself on some bolts.”
Ouch.
I used the rest of the gauze to wipe up the solution, and then ripped open a package with a wet wipe and made sure the blood was cleared up.
“You should be using gloves,” he pointed out. “You know? Blood and all.”
“I thought any girl was safe with you,” I shot back, tearing open bandages. “Isn’t that what you told me?”
Jax was silent for a minute, narrowing his eyes farther and watching me as I placed three rectangular bandages on his stomach.
“I said any girlfriend of mine,” he finally clarified. “But you shouldn’t be so careless. Use gloves next time.”
I ignored him, feeling weird on the occasions he acted like this. Jax had a habit of scolding me, sometimes acting as though he was protecting me, and then following it all up with being an asshole. I finally figured out condescension was his way of gaining superiority. Making others feel stupid.
I sat back, looking him in the eye and changing the subject. “Is anything else hurt?”
He hesitated only a moment. And then folded his arm back, lifting his right elbow to reveal the scratches I’d noticed earlier.
Repeating the same procedure, I stood up and leaned over him, catching the saline wash as it cascaded over his wound and into the gauze.
He hissed, and I blinked.
“Blow on it,” he ordered.
“It doesn’t sting,” I scoffed, knowing damn well that saline didn’t hurt.
“K.C., Jesus,” he barked, wincing.
I rolled my eyes but gave in. Holding the underside of his arm—his hard triceps—I leaned down and released a slow, cool breeze over the scratches. Jax’s scent wafted over me again, and I desperately wanted to close my mouth so I could breathe him in through my nose.
But I didn’t. I could tell his eyes were on me.
“Why are you watching me?” I asked, wiping up the rest of the solution and blood.
I didn’t look at him, but I heard him swallow.
“This is just the first time you’ve ever made me feel good, is all,” he replied in probably the most candid way I’d ever heard him speak.
I pinched my eyebrows together.
The first time I’d ever made him feel good. I didn’t know what to say to that. Hell, I had nothing to say to that.
Keeping quiet, I finished applying his bandages as fast as I could and didn’t meet his eyes again. He’d tried to be nice to me in high school. He’d tried to be a friend. Maybe friends with benefits but still a friend. Now here I was, forcing my attention on him, and he probably had no patience for me anymore.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ventured.
“What?”
“That night you drove Liam home . . .” I swallowed, smoothing my fingers over the bandage I’d fixed to his arm. “You said you had tattoos. Too many.” I repeated his words, my eyes fixated on his forearm. “What did you mean?” I pressed, because clearly Jax didn’t sport any tattoos. His statement hadn’t made any sense.
Even though I hadn’t looked at him, I noticed his head turn away as he inhaled a slow, deep breath. Kind of as though he was getting ready to dive deep underwater and knew he wouldn’t be up for air for a while.
“Sorry,” I said quietly, straightening up and crumpling the bandage wrappers in my fist. “I just . . . I don’t know . . .” I trailed off. “I just want to understand.”
I finally met his eyes, and he studied me silently. I didn’t know if he was trying to figure out what to tell me or if he wanted to tell me anything at all. Funny thing was, I’d thought about what Jax said that night a lot over the years, and while I was curious, it wasn’t until I’d overheard his conversation with Jared today that I knew it had something to do with his childhood.
And I realized that I didn’t know Jaxon Trent at all.
He rubbed his forearm and narrowed his eyes briefly before relaxing. “If you could get a tattoo, what would it be?”
I blinked, shocked by his question. “Um.” I laughed softly, thinking. “I thought about a set of angel wings, I guess. With one of the wings broken,” I admitted.
“It has something to do with your past?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“And it’s something you want to remember?” he pressed.
“Yes.”
“That’s why I don’t have any tattoos,” he concluded. “People get tattoos for all kinds of reasons, but they’re always badges of what has made them who they are. I don’t care to remember what and who made me this way. The people that gave me life. The people that brought me up . . .” He shook his head, defiant. “The places I’ve seen or anything I’ve done. It’s all in my head, anyway. I don’t want it on my body, too. I don’t care about anything that much.”
His abs flexed, probably from the cold fluid, since saline didn’t sting, as I poured it over the cuts, cleaning them.
He sucked in air through his teeth. “Some of the science kids have greenhouses on the roof,” he grunted, and I almost laughed out loud. “Masters asked me to go up and make sure the roofs were closed, but I slipped coming back down the stairs. Scraped myself on some bolts.”
Ouch.
I used the rest of the gauze to wipe up the solution, and then ripped open a package with a wet wipe and made sure the blood was cleared up.
“You should be using gloves,” he pointed out. “You know? Blood and all.”
“I thought any girl was safe with you,” I shot back, tearing open bandages. “Isn’t that what you told me?”
Jax was silent for a minute, narrowing his eyes farther and watching me as I placed three rectangular bandages on his stomach.
“I said any girlfriend of mine,” he finally clarified. “But you shouldn’t be so careless. Use gloves next time.”
I ignored him, feeling weird on the occasions he acted like this. Jax had a habit of scolding me, sometimes acting as though he was protecting me, and then following it all up with being an asshole. I finally figured out condescension was his way of gaining superiority. Making others feel stupid.
I sat back, looking him in the eye and changing the subject. “Is anything else hurt?”
He hesitated only a moment. And then folded his arm back, lifting his right elbow to reveal the scratches I’d noticed earlier.
Repeating the same procedure, I stood up and leaned over him, catching the saline wash as it cascaded over his wound and into the gauze.
He hissed, and I blinked.
“Blow on it,” he ordered.
“It doesn’t sting,” I scoffed, knowing damn well that saline didn’t hurt.
“K.C., Jesus,” he barked, wincing.
I rolled my eyes but gave in. Holding the underside of his arm—his hard triceps—I leaned down and released a slow, cool breeze over the scratches. Jax’s scent wafted over me again, and I desperately wanted to close my mouth so I could breathe him in through my nose.
But I didn’t. I could tell his eyes were on me.
“Why are you watching me?” I asked, wiping up the rest of the solution and blood.
I didn’t look at him, but I heard him swallow.
“This is just the first time you’ve ever made me feel good, is all,” he replied in probably the most candid way I’d ever heard him speak.
I pinched my eyebrows together.
The first time I’d ever made him feel good. I didn’t know what to say to that. Hell, I had nothing to say to that.
Keeping quiet, I finished applying his bandages as fast as I could and didn’t meet his eyes again. He’d tried to be nice to me in high school. He’d tried to be a friend. Maybe friends with benefits but still a friend. Now here I was, forcing my attention on him, and he probably had no patience for me anymore.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ventured.
“What?”
“That night you drove Liam home . . .” I swallowed, smoothing my fingers over the bandage I’d fixed to his arm. “You said you had tattoos. Too many.” I repeated his words, my eyes fixated on his forearm. “What did you mean?” I pressed, because clearly Jax didn’t sport any tattoos. His statement hadn’t made any sense.
Even though I hadn’t looked at him, I noticed his head turn away as he inhaled a slow, deep breath. Kind of as though he was getting ready to dive deep underwater and knew he wouldn’t be up for air for a while.
“Sorry,” I said quietly, straightening up and crumpling the bandage wrappers in my fist. “I just . . . I don’t know . . .” I trailed off. “I just want to understand.”
I finally met his eyes, and he studied me silently. I didn’t know if he was trying to figure out what to tell me or if he wanted to tell me anything at all. Funny thing was, I’d thought about what Jax said that night a lot over the years, and while I was curious, it wasn’t until I’d overheard his conversation with Jared today that I knew it had something to do with his childhood.
And I realized that I didn’t know Jaxon Trent at all.
He rubbed his forearm and narrowed his eyes briefly before relaxing. “If you could get a tattoo, what would it be?”
I blinked, shocked by his question. “Um.” I laughed softly, thinking. “I thought about a set of angel wings, I guess. With one of the wings broken,” I admitted.
“It has something to do with your past?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“And it’s something you want to remember?” he pressed.
“Yes.”
“That’s why I don’t have any tattoos,” he concluded. “People get tattoos for all kinds of reasons, but they’re always badges of what has made them who they are. I don’t care to remember what and who made me this way. The people that gave me life. The people that brought me up . . .” He shook his head, defiant. “The places I’ve seen or anything I’ve done. It’s all in my head, anyway. I don’t want it on my body, too. I don’t care about anything that much.”
About The Author:
Penelope Douglas was born in Dubuque, Iowa and has a Masters of Science in Education from Loyola University in New Orleans. She lives with her family in Las Vegas.
Giveaway:
Saturday, November 8, 2014
Blog Tour: Caged in Winter by Brighton Walsh
About The Book:
Title: Caged In Winter
Author: Brighton Walsh
Release Date: November 4, 2014
In this emotional and sexy New Adult debut from Brighton Walsh, the only thing more frightening than commitment is hope…Aspiring chef Cade Maxwell is immediately, viscerally attracted to Winter Jacobson. But it’s not her mouthwatering curves he’s drawn to—it’s the strange emptiness in her eyes. When Cade saves her from a drunken customer with grabby hands, he’s shocked at her response…
Winter doesn’t need Cade’s help. After a lifetime of getting by on her own, she’s happy to rely on herself. She’s exactly seventy-six days away from graduating college, and if she can hold it together that long, she’ll finally be able to rise above the crappy hand she was dealt.
But now, every time she turns around, Cade is there, ready to push her, smile at her, distract her from her plans. Winter knows she can’t afford to open up—especially to a man she’s terrified to actually want…
Excerpt:
Cade
“Okay, now add the flour, but—” It’s too late, a puff of white exploding in Winter’s face before I can get the words out or reach to flip the switch. “You need to turn the mixer to low.”
She spins around, her cheeks covered in random white spots, some of the flour dusting her hair. “You couldn’t say that before, ‘Now add the flour’?” Her voice is low, her eyes narrowed, and I take a step back.
“Well, yeah, I guess I could’ve, but I just sort of figured you’d know enough not to add loose flour to a wildly spinning mixer.”
“Oh, you figured I’d know enough for that, huh? Even after I told you I’ve never made cookies before? Even then?”
She’s advancing on me now, and I shouldn’t be retreating like a scared animal. I have more than a foot on her, a hundred-plus pounds, but she looks pissed. And that glint in her eye tells me she’s up to something. I glance down at her hand, seeing a measuring cup half filled with flour, and I realize what she’s going to do a split-second before she does, but not soon enough to dodge it.
A cloud of white powder hits me straight in the face, and I cough as I inhale some. Wiping away the dust from my eyes, I say, “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Oh, well, I just figured you’d know enough to duck.” She shrugs and offers me a saccharine smile.
“I don’t think you want to start this with me, baby.”
“In case you missed the flour in your face a second ago, I already started it, baby.”
I stare her down, then reach over, grabbing the bowl of melted chocolate—my mom’s secret ingredient in her cookies—and dip my fingers into it. Winter narrows her eyes at me and takes a step back. “Don’t you dare.”
“Where you goin’? I thought you wanted to get messy.”
“No, I wanted you to get messy. I didn’t have a choice with this,” she says as she gestures to where the flour hit her. She darts her eyes down to the bowl of chocolate, then back up to my face. “Don’t, Cade. You’re going to get me dirty, and I have to be at work soon.”
“You maybe should’ve thought about that before you threw a scoop of flour in my face.” I don’t wait for her response before I smear the chocolate down her cheek to her jaw, then all the way down her neck and into the deep V of her shirt, stopping when I feel the swell of her breasts. “Whoops.”
“You did not just do that.”
“Looks like I did.” I shrug, putting the bowl back on the counter before I lick the chocolate from my fingers. She focuses on the act, her lips parted. I lean closer to her, drop my voice, and gesture to the spots of her skin that are covered. “You want me to clean you up, too?”
Glaring, she gives a jerky shake of her head, but a flush works its way up her chest to her neck—one of the tells she’s getting turned on.
I step closer, backing her into the corner until she’s pressed against the cabinets behind her. “Sure about that? It wouldn’t take much. Just a lick or two. Maybe a couple sucks. We’d probably have to take your shirt off, though, and your bra, too. I really got down in there.”
Her head’s tilted back as she stares up at me, her chest rising and falling in quick succession from her labored breathing.
I lean into her space, lick up a path from her neck to her ear. “I think you do. I think you want my tongue all over you, don’t you, baby? I got you all dirty. Seems only fair I clean you up.” Before she can respond, my mouth closes over her shoulder, my tongue tracing along the chocolate I smeared there. By the time I’ve dipped into the neckline of her shirt, my tongue in the valley of her breasts, her nipples are pressed tight against the material, and she’s got a white-knuckled grip on the countertop behind her.
“Want me to stop?”
I wait a second. Two. And when she gives the slightest shake of her head, I take. Gripping her face in my hands, my mouth covers hers, my tongue slipping inside. She groans into the kiss, her hands finally coming up to clutch my forearms.
“Wait.” She wrenches her mouth from mine, turning her head to the side. “Cade, wait. Your sister.”
I focus on licking every stray ounce of chocolate I can find, her hands a counterpoint to her words as she holds me close. “Not home. Gone till four.”
“Shit! Four. I have to be at work at four!”
“We’ve got time. Now stop talking.”
I peel her jeans and panties off, then lift her onto the counter, desperate to feel her around me. With one hand, I fumble with the button of my jeans, the other busy between Winter’s thighs, rubbing soft circles around her clit, getting her ready for me. She’s moaning, her head resting back on the cabinets, and the sight of her there, half naked in my kitchen, is too much. Too fucking much, and I can’t get my goddamn jeans off.
When she notices, her hands are there, opening my jeans and yanking my boxers down just far enough to pull me out. Her hands are around my cock, pumping slowly, and I need inside her now.
“Okay, now add the flour, but—” It’s too late, a puff of white exploding in Winter’s face before I can get the words out or reach to flip the switch. “You need to turn the mixer to low.”
She spins around, her cheeks covered in random white spots, some of the flour dusting her hair. “You couldn’t say that before, ‘Now add the flour’?” Her voice is low, her eyes narrowed, and I take a step back.
“Well, yeah, I guess I could’ve, but I just sort of figured you’d know enough not to add loose flour to a wildly spinning mixer.”
“Oh, you figured I’d know enough for that, huh? Even after I told you I’ve never made cookies before? Even then?”
She’s advancing on me now, and I shouldn’t be retreating like a scared animal. I have more than a foot on her, a hundred-plus pounds, but she looks pissed. And that glint in her eye tells me she’s up to something. I glance down at her hand, seeing a measuring cup half filled with flour, and I realize what she’s going to do a split-second before she does, but not soon enough to dodge it.
A cloud of white powder hits me straight in the face, and I cough as I inhale some. Wiping away the dust from my eyes, I say, “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Oh, well, I just figured you’d know enough to duck.” She shrugs and offers me a saccharine smile.
“I don’t think you want to start this with me, baby.”
“In case you missed the flour in your face a second ago, I already started it, baby.”
I stare her down, then reach over, grabbing the bowl of melted chocolate—my mom’s secret ingredient in her cookies—and dip my fingers into it. Winter narrows her eyes at me and takes a step back. “Don’t you dare.”
“Where you goin’? I thought you wanted to get messy.”
“No, I wanted you to get messy. I didn’t have a choice with this,” she says as she gestures to where the flour hit her. She darts her eyes down to the bowl of chocolate, then back up to my face. “Don’t, Cade. You’re going to get me dirty, and I have to be at work soon.”
“You maybe should’ve thought about that before you threw a scoop of flour in my face.” I don’t wait for her response before I smear the chocolate down her cheek to her jaw, then all the way down her neck and into the deep V of her shirt, stopping when I feel the swell of her breasts. “Whoops.”
“You did not just do that.”
“Looks like I did.” I shrug, putting the bowl back on the counter before I lick the chocolate from my fingers. She focuses on the act, her lips parted. I lean closer to her, drop my voice, and gesture to the spots of her skin that are covered. “You want me to clean you up, too?”
Glaring, she gives a jerky shake of her head, but a flush works its way up her chest to her neck—one of the tells she’s getting turned on.
I step closer, backing her into the corner until she’s pressed against the cabinets behind her. “Sure about that? It wouldn’t take much. Just a lick or two. Maybe a couple sucks. We’d probably have to take your shirt off, though, and your bra, too. I really got down in there.”
Her head’s tilted back as she stares up at me, her chest rising and falling in quick succession from her labored breathing.
I lean into her space, lick up a path from her neck to her ear. “I think you do. I think you want my tongue all over you, don’t you, baby? I got you all dirty. Seems only fair I clean you up.” Before she can respond, my mouth closes over her shoulder, my tongue tracing along the chocolate I smeared there. By the time I’ve dipped into the neckline of her shirt, my tongue in the valley of her breasts, her nipples are pressed tight against the material, and she’s got a white-knuckled grip on the countertop behind her.
“Want me to stop?”
I wait a second. Two. And when she gives the slightest shake of her head, I take. Gripping her face in my hands, my mouth covers hers, my tongue slipping inside. She groans into the kiss, her hands finally coming up to clutch my forearms.
“Wait.” She wrenches her mouth from mine, turning her head to the side. “Cade, wait. Your sister.”
I focus on licking every stray ounce of chocolate I can find, her hands a counterpoint to her words as she holds me close. “Not home. Gone till four.”
“Shit! Four. I have to be at work at four!”
“We’ve got time. Now stop talking.”
I peel her jeans and panties off, then lift her onto the counter, desperate to feel her around me. With one hand, I fumble with the button of my jeans, the other busy between Winter’s thighs, rubbing soft circles around her clit, getting her ready for me. She’s moaning, her head resting back on the cabinets, and the sight of her there, half naked in my kitchen, is too much. Too fucking much, and I can’t get my goddamn jeans off.
When she notices, her hands are there, opening my jeans and yanking my boxers down just far enough to pull me out. Her hands are around my cock, pumping slowly, and I need inside her now.
My review:
Caged in Winter by Brighton WalshMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Caged in Winter by Brighton Walsh is a new romance that will captivate you and leave you drooling for a Cade all of your own.
A romance told from both points of view. The story flows so smoothly and pulls you in right from the very beginning.
Winter is fiercly independent as a result of a crappy childhood, growing up watching her mother be dependent on whatever boyfriend was around at the time.
Cade is a tough looking guy, but is so caring and compassionate that it's a little surprising. He is the perfect blend of tough and sweet though, not too sappy or weak sounding. Sweet while still being a bad-ass.
This book has put this author on my radar and I can't wait to read more from her.
About The Author:
Brighton Walsh spent nearly a decade as a professional photographer before deciding to take her storytelling in a different direction and reconnect with writing. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and two children.
Giveaway:
Thursday, October 30, 2014
#1 Bestselling Author J.R. Ward to Launch Contemporary Series THE BOURBON KINGS in 2015
Press Release:
to Launch Contemporary Series
The Bourbon Kings in 2015
New American Library Will Release First Book, The Bourbon Kings,
in Hardcover on July 28, 2015
✦✦✦
Television Rights Optioned by Top
International Producer and Distributor Endemol Studios
New York, NY; October 30, 2014 – New American Library, a division of Penguin Random House, announced today that it will publish in hardcover the first book in a new contemporary series from #1 New York Times bestselling author J.R. Ward on July 28, 2015.
Launching with a novel of the same name, The Bourbon Kings series will introduce readers to the Bradfords, a wealthy, aristocratic family in Kentucky who made their money from bourbon.
The books have already been optioned for television by Endemol Studios, the entertainment and production company behind the international hit TV series Big Brother, Deal or No Deal, Wipeout, Hell On Wheels, The Fall and Peaky Blinders, among others.
Set in the heart of bourbon and horse country, The Bourbon Kings marks a departure for Ward who hasn’t written extensively about Kentucky, though she lives in The Bluegrass State and has deep ties to the surrounding community.
Ward said: “The Bourbon Kings are just like my Black Dagger Brotherhood vampires, flawed heroes for strong women who live and love in a vivid, ever-changing world of passion and excitement. Readers can expect the same big emotions, epic storylines, and soul-deep love stories in these books—as well as those signature, OMG, I have to know what happens NEXT! kind of endings.”
With more than 15 million of her novels in print worldwide, Ward is an international bestselling author best known for her phenomenally popular paranormal Black Dagger Brotherhood series about a group of warrior vampires. Dark Lover, the first book in the series, was published in 2005, and reader reaction was immediate. Just eighteen months later, the fourth book in the series, Lover Revealed, hit the New York Times bestseller list. Since then, Ward’s novels have held the #1 spot on the New York Times hardcover, mass market, eBook, and combined print/eBook fiction bestseller lists and have debuted in the Top Five on the USA Today bestseller list. Ward and her books have been featured in USA Today, Entertainment Weekly, The Boston Globe and The New York Times.
“The Bourbon Kings has all the hallmarks of Ward’s hugely successful Black Dagger Brotherhood books—fascinating characters, compelling interwoven plotlines, passionate love stories—while also feeling completely fresh. I’m thrilled to be starting a new series with the extremely talented J.R. Ward and am confident that readers will also find this one irresistibly addictive,” said NAL’s Senior Vice President and Publisher Kara Welsh.
The Bourbon Kings series will follow the Bradfords, those who work for them on their estate, Easterly, and several other wealthy Southern families involved in Kentucky’s bourbon industry.
✦✦✦
About The Book:
Title: The Bourbon Kings
Series: The Bourbon Kings #1
Author: J.R. Ward
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Expected Publication: July 28, 2015
The #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Black Dagger Brotherhood delivers the first novel in an enthralling new series set amid the shifting dynamics of a Southern family defined by wealth and privilege—and compromised by secrets, deceit, and scandal....
For generations, the Bradford family has worn the mantle of kings of the bourbon capital of the world. Their sustained wealth has afforded them prestige and privilege—as well as a hard-won division of class on their sprawling estate, Easterly. Upstairs, a dynasty that by all appearances plays by the rules of good fortune and good taste. Downstairs, the staff who work tirelessly to maintain the impeccable Bradford facade. And never the twain shall meet.
For Lizzie King, Easterly’s head gardener, crossing that divide nearly ruined her life. Falling in love with Tulane, the prodigal son of the bourbon dynasty, was nothing that she intended or wanted—and their bitter breakup only served to prove her instincts were right. Now, after two years of staying away, Tulane is finally coming home again, and he is bringing the past with him. No one will be left unmarked: not Tulane’s beautiful and ruthless wife; not his older brother, whose bitterness and bad blood know no bounds; and especially not the ironfisted Bradford patriarch, a man with few morals, fewer scruples, and many, many terrible secrets.
As family tensions—professional and intimately private—ignite, Easterly and all its inhabitants are thrown into the grips of an irrevocable transformation, and only the cunning will survive.
About The Author:
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Pre-release Celebration: Caged in Winter by Brighton Walsh
About The Book:
Title: Caged In Winter
Author: Brighton Walsh
Expected Publication: November 4, 2014
In this emotional and sexy New Adult debut from Brighton Walsh, the only thing more frightening than commitment is hope…Aspiring chef Cade Maxwell is immediately, viscerally attracted to Winter Jacobson. But it’s not her mouthwatering curves he’s drawn to—it’s the strange emptiness in her eyes. When Cade saves her from a drunken customer with grabby hands, he’s shocked at her response…
Winter doesn’t need Cade’s help. After a lifetime of getting by on her own, she’s happy to rely on herself. She’s exactly seventy-six days away from graduating college, and if she can hold it together that long, she’ll finally be able to rise above the crappy hand she was dealt.
But now, every time she turns around, Cade is there, ready to push her, smile at her, distract her from her plans. Winter knows she can’t afford to open up—especially to a man she’s terrified to actually want…
Excerpt:
Cade
“Okay, now add the flour, but—” It’s too late, a puff of white exploding in Winter’s face before I can get the words out or reach to flip the switch. “You need to turn the mixer to low.”
She spins around, her cheeks covered in random white spots, some of the flour dusting her hair. “You couldn’t say that before, ‘Now add the flour’?” Her voice is low, her eyes narrowed, and I take a step back.
“Well, yeah, I guess I could’ve, but I just sort of figured you’d know enough not to add loose flour to a wildly spinning mixer.”
“Oh, you figured I’d know enough for that, huh? Even after I told you I’ve never made cookies before? Even then?”
She’s advancing on me now, and I shouldn’t be retreating like a scared animal. I have more than a foot on her, a hundred-plus pounds, but she looks pissed. And that glint in her eye tells me she’s up to something. I glance down at her hand, seeing a measuring cup half filled with flour, and I realize what she’s going to do a split-second before she does, but not soon enough to dodge it.
A cloud of white powder hits me straight in the face, and I cough as I inhale some. Wiping away the dust from my eyes, I say, “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Oh, well, I just figured you’d know enough to duck.” She shrugs and offers me a saccharine smile.
“I don’t think you want to start this with me, baby.”
“In case you missed the flour in your face a second ago, I already started it, baby.”
I stare her down, then reach over, grabbing the bowl of melted chocolate—my mom’s secret ingredient in her cookies—and dip my fingers into it. Winter narrows her eyes at me and takes a step back. “Don’t you dare.”
“Where you goin’? I thought you wanted to get messy.”
“No, I wanted you to get messy. I didn’t have a choice with this,” she says as she gestures to where the flour hit her. She darts her eyes down to the bowl of chocolate, then back up to my face. “Don’t, Cade. You’re going to get me dirty, and I have to be at work soon.”
“You maybe should’ve thought about that before you threw a scoop of flour in my face.” I don’t wait for her response before I smear the chocolate down her cheek to her jaw, then all the way down her neck and into the deep V of her shirt, stopping when I feel the swell of her breasts. “Whoops.”
“You did not just do that.”
“Looks like I did.” I shrug, putting the bowl back on the counter before I lick the chocolate from my fingers. She focuses on the act, her lips parted. I lean closer to her, drop my voice, and gesture to the spots of her skin that are covered. “You want me to clean you up, too?”
Glaring, she gives a jerky shake of her head, but a flush works its way up her chest to her neck—one of the tells she’s getting turned on.
I step closer, backing her into the corner until she’s pressed against the cabinets behind her. “Sure about that? It wouldn’t take much. Just a lick or two. Maybe a couple sucks. We’d probably have to take your shirt off, though, and your bra, too. I really got down in there.”
Her head’s tilted back as she stares up at me, her chest rising and falling in quick succession from her labored breathing.
I lean into her space, lick up a path from her neck to her ear. “I think you do. I think you want my tongue all over you, don’t you, baby? I got you all dirty. Seems only fair I clean you up.” Before she can respond, my mouth closes over her shoulder, my tongue tracing along the chocolate I smeared there. By the time I’ve dipped into the neckline of her shirt, my tongue in the valley of her breasts, her nipples are pressed tight against the material, and she’s got a white-knuckled grip on the countertop behind her.
“Want me to stop?”
I wait a second. Two. And when she gives the slightest shake of her head, I take. Gripping her face in my hands, my mouth covers hers, my tongue slipping inside. She groans into the kiss, her hands finally coming up to clutch my forearms.
“Wait.” She wrenches her mouth from mine, turning her head to the side. “Cade, wait. Your sister.”
I focus on licking every stray ounce of chocolate I can find, her hands a counterpoint to her words as she holds me close. “Not home. Gone till four.”
“Shit! Four. I have to be at work at four!”
“We’ve got time. Now stop talking.”
I peel her jeans and panties off, then lift her onto the counter, desperate to feel her around me. With one hand, I fumble with the button of my jeans, the other busy between Winter’s thighs, rubbing soft circles around her clit, getting her ready for me. She’s moaning, her head resting back on the cabinets, and the sight of her there, half naked in my kitchen, is too much. Too fucking much, and I can’t get my goddamn jeans off.
When she notices, her hands are there, opening my jeans and yanking my boxers down just far enough to pull me out. Her hands are around my cock, pumping slowly, and I need inside her now.
“Okay, now add the flour, but—” It’s too late, a puff of white exploding in Winter’s face before I can get the words out or reach to flip the switch. “You need to turn the mixer to low.”
She spins around, her cheeks covered in random white spots, some of the flour dusting her hair. “You couldn’t say that before, ‘Now add the flour’?” Her voice is low, her eyes narrowed, and I take a step back.
“Well, yeah, I guess I could’ve, but I just sort of figured you’d know enough not to add loose flour to a wildly spinning mixer.”
“Oh, you figured I’d know enough for that, huh? Even after I told you I’ve never made cookies before? Even then?”
She’s advancing on me now, and I shouldn’t be retreating like a scared animal. I have more than a foot on her, a hundred-plus pounds, but she looks pissed. And that glint in her eye tells me she’s up to something. I glance down at her hand, seeing a measuring cup half filled with flour, and I realize what she’s going to do a split-second before she does, but not soon enough to dodge it.
A cloud of white powder hits me straight in the face, and I cough as I inhale some. Wiping away the dust from my eyes, I say, “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Oh, well, I just figured you’d know enough to duck.” She shrugs and offers me a saccharine smile.
“I don’t think you want to start this with me, baby.”
“In case you missed the flour in your face a second ago, I already started it, baby.”
I stare her down, then reach over, grabbing the bowl of melted chocolate—my mom’s secret ingredient in her cookies—and dip my fingers into it. Winter narrows her eyes at me and takes a step back. “Don’t you dare.”
“Where you goin’? I thought you wanted to get messy.”
“No, I wanted you to get messy. I didn’t have a choice with this,” she says as she gestures to where the flour hit her. She darts her eyes down to the bowl of chocolate, then back up to my face. “Don’t, Cade. You’re going to get me dirty, and I have to be at work soon.”
“You maybe should’ve thought about that before you threw a scoop of flour in my face.” I don’t wait for her response before I smear the chocolate down her cheek to her jaw, then all the way down her neck and into the deep V of her shirt, stopping when I feel the swell of her breasts. “Whoops.”
“You did not just do that.”
“Looks like I did.” I shrug, putting the bowl back on the counter before I lick the chocolate from my fingers. She focuses on the act, her lips parted. I lean closer to her, drop my voice, and gesture to the spots of her skin that are covered. “You want me to clean you up, too?”
Glaring, she gives a jerky shake of her head, but a flush works its way up her chest to her neck—one of the tells she’s getting turned on.
I step closer, backing her into the corner until she’s pressed against the cabinets behind her. “Sure about that? It wouldn’t take much. Just a lick or two. Maybe a couple sucks. We’d probably have to take your shirt off, though, and your bra, too. I really got down in there.”
Her head’s tilted back as she stares up at me, her chest rising and falling in quick succession from her labored breathing.
I lean into her space, lick up a path from her neck to her ear. “I think you do. I think you want my tongue all over you, don’t you, baby? I got you all dirty. Seems only fair I clean you up.” Before she can respond, my mouth closes over her shoulder, my tongue tracing along the chocolate I smeared there. By the time I’ve dipped into the neckline of her shirt, my tongue in the valley of her breasts, her nipples are pressed tight against the material, and she’s got a white-knuckled grip on the countertop behind her.
“Want me to stop?”
I wait a second. Two. And when she gives the slightest shake of her head, I take. Gripping her face in my hands, my mouth covers hers, my tongue slipping inside. She groans into the kiss, her hands finally coming up to clutch my forearms.
“Wait.” She wrenches her mouth from mine, turning her head to the side. “Cade, wait. Your sister.”
I focus on licking every stray ounce of chocolate I can find, her hands a counterpoint to her words as she holds me close. “Not home. Gone till four.”
“Shit! Four. I have to be at work at four!”
“We’ve got time. Now stop talking.”
I peel her jeans and panties off, then lift her onto the counter, desperate to feel her around me. With one hand, I fumble with the button of my jeans, the other busy between Winter’s thighs, rubbing soft circles around her clit, getting her ready for me. She’s moaning, her head resting back on the cabinets, and the sight of her there, half naked in my kitchen, is too much. Too fucking much, and I can’t get my goddamn jeans off.
When she notices, her hands are there, opening my jeans and yanking my boxers down just far enough to pull me out. Her hands are around my cock, pumping slowly, and I need inside her now.
About The Author:
Brighton Walsh spent nearly a decade as a professional photographer before deciding to take her storytelling in a different direction and reconnect with writing. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and two children.
Giveaway:
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