by Virna DePaul
Julia places the roses in water, arranging them before turning to me. “Ready? I’m starving! Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” I say.
I take her to the tapas restaurant where I apologized for ghosting on her all those months ago. Her eyes widen, and then she laughs when she realizes what I’ve done.
“I hope you don't have to apologize for something,” she says, raising a blond eyebrow.
“Nothing that I’m aware of. But I’m sure you’ll tell me if I do need to apologize.”
She giggles as we sit down. “You know me so well.”
It’s hard to believe that I’m here with Julia right now, watching her laugh and smile and chat, candles making her glow. Not only have I found the love of my life, but my lupus is in remission once again. There’s no guarantee it won’t return, but I’m hopeful, and so is my physician. Julia also makes sure I eat right and get enough sleep—well, as much sleep as you can get when you just want to make love to your girlfriend every night—and we go to the gym together. Having her in my life keeps my stress levels down, which I know will keep me in remission longer.
I know it sounds cheesy, but Julia’s my angel, always watching out for me. I just hope I can do the same for her.
We eat and chat and drink sangria. I feed Julia bites of tapas, and although she blushes and smiles, she takes the offered bites and may have licked my fingers more than once.
While we’re waiting for the check, I know the time has arrived. I can feel the ring case burning a hole in my pocket. Nerves burst through me, and I’m surprised at how anxious I am. I’m sure she’ll say yes, but this is a huge step. Yet as I look at her, I know it’s the right step. I can’t imagine marrying any other woman.
I get up, and Julia looks at me. “Where are you going . . .?” She gasps when she realizes I’m kneeling in front of her.
I take her hand, the ring in my other hand. “Julia Louise Rominger,” I say in a low voice, “I hope you know how much I love you. I love you from here to the moon and back. I wish I could come up with artistic metaphors to tell you how much I love you, but I’m not that kind of man.” She’s shaking a little, and I press her fingers. I then open up the box with my right hand and take out the ring. It winks in the candlelight.
“Oh, Bastian,” she murmurs.
“I adore you, Julia. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Will you marry me?”
She’s crying now, and wiping away her tears, and then she’s nodding before she wraps her arms around me, hugging me close. She keeps whispering yes against my neck, and I hold her close. I don’t even notice that the restaurant is applauding, or that I’m still holding the ring. When Julia pulls away to wipe her eyes again, I take her left hand and place the ring on her finger.
“It’s beautiful. I love emeralds. I love it. I love you!” She kisses me, and then she laughs. “I’m going to be Mrs. Julia Rich!”
The restaurant applauds again, and then we’re given a congratulatory cake from the staff as a result.
I’m not interested in the cake, though. I just want to take Julia home and make love to her while she’s wearing my ring.
I practically carry her into my house when we arrive, and we’re kissing the entire time. As I shut the front door, I flip the lock just as she’s unbuckling my belt. I’m trying to find the zipper on her dress, and curse when it gets stuck. She laughs, pulling away and unzipping the dress herself. She’s now clad in a matching white lace bra and panties, and I’m almost drooling. I can see already that she’s wet, and it only makes me wilder.
We run upstairs, stripping off the last pieces of clothing until we’re completely naked. I play with her breasts, kissing between them. I lick her, tasting salt and roses, and then I move down until I bury my face in her slick pussy. She arches and moans, and I have to grip her hips to keep her steady. Her clit is swollen beneath my tongue. I lick and suck, and just as she’s about to come, I stop.
“Bastian,” she whimpers in a needy voice. “I was so close. Please . . .”
I spread her legs farther, settling between them. As I kiss her, she groans, especially when my cock brushes her sensitive flesh.
“Patience is a virtue,” I say.
She just curses.
But I’m losing control, too. She’s too hot, too wet, too sexy and gorgeous, and I can see the ring sparkling in the light. My fiancée, my soon-to-be wife. The thought just makes me harder, and I thrust inside of her all the way, my pelvis pressing against her.
She undulates. Playing with her breasts, she opens her eyes, her gaze starry-eyed, as I fuck her. Her breasts bounce, and I’m gripping her legs just to give myself some kind of leverage. I know I’m close: I can feel that familiar tingling, centered in my lower back. I thrust harder, glancing off her clit each time.
She arches her head back and moans. And then just as she pinches her nipples and I lean down to bite her neck, she orgasms. I can feel the waves along my cock, and then I’m coming along with her. I explode. I moan, loud and long, emptying myself inside of her for long moments. The smell of sex and sweat fills the room, and it’s a heady, erotic combination.
Hours later, we’re exhausted. I’ve lost count of how many orgasms we’ve each had. My limbs feel like they’re about to fall off, but it’s a sated kind of exhaustion. Spooning, I brush Julia’s hair over her shoulder and kiss the nape of her neck.
That’s when she starts laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, confused.
She tries to wave away the question, but I’m persistent. Finally, she sighs and admits, “I was just thinking about how Kevin and I nicknamed you ‘Big Sexy.’ Before I knew who you were. You’d come into Cooper’s looking like the sexiest thing ever, and the best part of my day was checking you and your ass out.”
I’d known that Kevin had taken photos of me, but I hadn’t known about this. I’m a little embarrassed, but also flattered.
“And now what do you think of me? Am I still Big Sexy?”
She rolls over, sighing happily. Then she glances down. “Oh yes, you’re definitely still big. And sexy.”
I laugh, and then I take hold of her wrists, mock growling. “I’ll show you exactly how big and sexy I can be. ”
“Promises, promises, Mr. Rich.”
I ghost my lips over her, then bury my face in her neck, breathing in her intoxicating scent. Relishing the knowledge that I am rich. Because I have Julia, the greatest treasure in the world.
***
Thank you for reading the Kiss Talent Agency Boxed Set (Books 1-6). If you’ve enjoyed spending time with these characters, please check out my other sexy contemporaries and romantic comedies!
Join my newsletter and get 2 free books, including Bedding the Wrong Bother for FREE. This USA Today Bestseller is a fan-favorite. Keep reading for a sneak peek!
You can also check out a list of my 50+ books here. Short blurbs are included to give you an idea of what I offer. Whether you’re looking for rock stars, football romance, steamy, funny, edgy, small town, vampires, hot cops, or reverse harems—I’ve got you covered!
Bedding the Wrong Brother
Brainy Melina Parker has always excelled at two things: research followed by hands-on application.
Determined to find her inner sex diva, she enlists her childhood friend, Max Dalton, to tutor her after hours.
Instead, she ends up in the wrong bed and gets a lesson in passion from Max's twin brother Rhys, a man Melina's always secretly wanted but never thought she could have.
This #1 Bestselling Contemporary Romance is rated HHH ("Heat, Heart & HEA") and involves a bed mix-up, hot identical twins, naughty word games, a shy heroine who's afraid she's boring and a hero determined to prove she's got everything he'll ever need.
Prologue
Dalton's Magic Rule #1:
Never reveal your secrets.
“Hey, Ladybug.”
Fourteen-year-old Melina Parker's hand jerked at the sound of Rhys Dalton'
s voice, causing the lizard in her palm to scamper away. Standing, she frowned to hide the sudden flight of butterflies in her stomach. “Darn it, Rhys. It took me almost an hour to get that one to come to me.”
Rhys, who even at sixteen towered over Melina, rolled his eyes. He was an identical twin, and it was hard for Melina to believe there were two gorgeous guys with that same shade of honey-colored hair and light green eyes walking the earth.
“Your mom said to tell you to stay clean.” The left side of his mouth quirked up, revealing the slightest hint of a dimple. “Guess it's too late for that.”
Melina glanced down at the dust covering her jeans. Grimacing, she slapped at the dirt and groaned. “She's going to kill me. She's already mad that I wouldn't wear the dress she bought me. You should have seen it, Rhys. It had polka dots. I mean, me in polka dots. Can you imagine?”
“Oh, come on, it makes sense. Plus, I think you'd be cute in a dress.”
At the quiet words, Melina's head jerked up. He couldn't have meant—
No, of course not. He'd been so distant lately. He wasn't even looking at her. Instead, he was staring down at a playing card in his hands, folding it. Nothing strange about that. Like their parents, Rhys and his twin brother, Max, were always fiddling with some kind of magic trick. He was particularly fond of making coins disappear. Sometimes she wished he could make her crush on him disappear just as easily, but first she'd have to admit it to him. That was so never going to happen. She'd seen the types of girls he and Max were attracted to, and plain, chubby tomboys need not apply.
At least he didn’t call her “Four-eyed Porker Parker” the way some of the boys at school did. In fact, when Rhys had heard Scott Thompson called her that, he’d tracked Scott down and given him a warning. Now whenever Melina got close, Scott couldn’t get away from her fast enough.
Nudging her glasses in place, she moved closer, trying to see what Rhys was doing. “Um. So, have you heard from Max?”
His hands paused briefly before continuing. “Just that he doesn't hate football camp nearly as much as he thought he would. Might have something to do with the girl’s camp next door.”
She snickered. “Bet you're wishing you'd gone to camp when you'd had the chance, huh?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
His gaze met hers. Unlike Max's, Rhys's pupils had a slight amber ring around them. She'd read somewhere that differing eye color in identical twins was extremely rare. The subtle difference fit Rhys's personality. While Max was almost always carefree and playful, Rhys had a quiet calmness about him—as if part of his mind was someplace else, someplace no one else could go.
He shrugged. “Time at home is rare. You know that.”
Melina nodded. She did. It was the hardest thing about being friends with the Dalton twins: the amount of time she had to spend missing them. Unless Rhys's folks were working up a new act, like now, they spent their time traveling and performing. Still, despite having to be schooled on the road by tutors, Rhys and Max always seemed to enjoy going to new places. She certainly envied their chance to see more than this small, university town she called home.
“Poor baby,” she teased, plucking a blade of grass from the ground and twirling it. “Getting to see the world with your famous parents must be a drag, huh?”
He frowned, then shook his head. “No, you're right. It's great.” He thrust his hand toward her. “Here. To replace the one I scared away.”
Dropping the blade of grass, she reached out and took the card. Looking down at it, she gasped. He'd folded the card into a shape that clearly resembled a lizard, with one spade as its eye. A smile split her face, and she actually squealed. “It's so cute!”
She looked up, happy to see that his frown had disappeared. A hank of hair had fallen over his eyes, and her fingers itched to push it back. She wouldn't have thought twice about it if he'd been Max, but with Rhys? She couldn't risk revealing how she felt about him. Next thing she knew, he'd pat her on the head and stop talking to her altogether, and that would kill her.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged again. “I got this book from the library—”
A movement behind his shoulder made her eyes widen. “Max?” She looked at Rhys, whose expression stiffened. “It's Max!”
Running past Rhys, she threw herself at Max. He laughed and lifted her, twirling her around before setting her on her feet. Even to an outsider, the differences between him and his brother would be obvious now. He was tanner, and his hair had grown longer, almost touching his shoulders. She reached out and flipped several strands. “What's with the girly hair?”
He narrowed his eyes and flicked a finger over her nose. “Still playing in the dirt, are you?”
She slapped his hand away. “You're home early. Rhys said you were having fun at camp.”
“I was. But I wanted to see what Mom and Dad were up to with the act. They're really pushing for something unique for the European tour. Your parents are here helping them?”
“Every day for the past week. Some kind of mechanical thingy.”
Max grinned and flung an arm around her shoulder. “Cool. Let's go check it out.”
“Okay. But first look at what Rhys made me.” She lifted up the paper lizard even as she turned to Rhys. “It's so cool. Rhys, let's—”
Rhys walked past her, nodding at his brother and slapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, dude. You're gonna love it. It's huge. I mean—”
As they walked in front of her, the two of them laughing and shoving, Melina frowned. She watched them, the easy way they had with each other, and hesitated. They'd be back on the road in another few weeks, and then it would be just her and her parents in their quiet little house, all of their noses immersed in books. No one to call her Ladybug or practice tricks on.
No one to dream about.
Which was silly, anyway. Her parents said things came to fruition through research and application, not dreaming. And they were right about everything.
Except polka dot dresses, she amended.
With a sigh, she carefully pocketed the paper lizard and scrambled to catch up with them. “Hey, guys! Wait up!”
Chapter One
Dalton's Magic Rule #2:
Continually challenge yourself.
“Listen to this,” Lucy Conrad said, waving Melina's magazine like a red flag. “98.9 percent of all women sometimes wish their lovers would just grab them, throw them down and fuck the holy hell out of them.” Tossing the magazine on the sofa, she pointed a finger in Melina's direction, her short and spiky red hair fairly vibrating. “You know what that means, don't you?”
“That women like to feel wanted?” Melina guessed, handing Lucy a pint of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream before dropping into the chair across from her. Sitting cross-legged, Melina adjusted her glasses, then scooped out a bite of Chunky Monkey from her own carton. It had been exactly seven days since she'd allowed herself this taste of heaven. When the cold confection touched her tongue, she closed her eyes in appreciation. “Hmm,” she purred. “Gotta love Girls’ Night In.”
“You can say that again.” The soft but impassioned reply came from Grace Sinclair, who sat in a chair next to Melina. Melina held out her spoon and Grace delicately tapped it with her own. Grace, a career counselor in the university's humanities department, was class and calmness personified. While Lucy was Cherry Garcia—cherry ice cream with cherries and fudge flakes—Grace was Ben & Jerry's Crème Brǔlée—sweet custard ice cream with a caramelized sugar swirl. Blond and willowy with cool porcelain skin, Grace spoke with just a hint of a Southern drawl. “All we need is a Viggo Mortensen movie and I'd be halfway to heaven.”
“You already tried that, remember? Even with Viggo's voice playing in the background, you couldn't get off.”
Grace squinted at Lucy while waving her spoon. “Now don't you go blaming that on Viggo. I could hardly hear him with all the grunting noises Phillip was making.” Grace wrinkled her nose. �
��I swear, the man had the nicest table manners, but in bed…” She gave a mock shudder.
Melina giggled as Lucy thumped on the magazine she'd been reading from.
“Seriously,” Lucy insisted. “This does not mean women like to feel wanted. It means they settle for fantasies instead of focusing on what they really want at the beginning of a relationship. Which is exactly what you're doing, Melina.”
Sighing, Melina forced a smile. The last thing she wanted was to have another argument with Lucy about Professor Jamie Whitcomb. Unfortunately, despite the dusting of freckles that made Lucy look more like one of her students than a tenured professor, Lucy was a bulldog when it came to protecting her friends—even from themselves. “And exactly what should I be focusing on?” she asked.
“Passion,” Lucy fired back.
Of course. Passion. Lucy's favorite word. “And by passion, you mean…”
“Pure, animalistic chemistry. The kind that makes you want to rip each other's clothes off and do it against a tree if you have to. The kind of passion you don't feel for Jamie.”
The kind of passion she'd never felt for any man, Melina thought. Any man except Rhys, that is. But thinking of Rhys only made her sad, and being sad while she ate Ben & Jerry's was just wrong. “Ahh,” Melina said softly, trying not to sound too bitter. “You mean the kind of mutual passion that leads to love and lifelong happiness and is about as real as unicorns or flying dragons.”
“Rarity isn't the same as fantasy,” Lucy exclaimed. She stood, her face all flushed and her hands gesturing wildly. “That's what women have been taught nowadays. That passion and true love and friendship, all rolled into one, is impossible. So they settle.”
“Lucy does have a point,” Grace admitted. “Passion must be a basic female need. Otherwise, why would such a huge percentage of women be craving it?”
