Chasing Kings

by Sierra Dean

  As Sam was ringing the books up, the bell over her stained-glass front door tinkled. A cold breeze wafted into the store, and some determined snowflakes followed the new arrival in.

  “Hi,” Sam greeted without looking up. “I’ll be right with you.”

  A masculine grunt was the reply, diverting Sam’s attention from Mrs. Bowler to see who had come in. The new arrival slipped down one of the aisles before she could see his face, but the rear view was worth a long glance. He wore faded jeans that hugged a divinely rounded butt and a battered brown leather jacket snug across his wide shoulders. His hair was a short crop of dark brown curls, and Sam’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding so hard she thought she might have a heart attack then and there.

  She’d lived in Edison Falls her whole life, and in all those twenty-six years she had never seen anyone with an ass like that because that ass didn’t belong to anyone from Edison Falls. Mrs. Bowler must have noticed Sam’s distraction, as the older woman craned her neck to follow Sam’s rapt gaze down the aisle.

  “Oh my,” Mrs. Bowler said, tapping the counter thoughtfully. “I’ll take one of him too. To go, please.” She cackled at her own joke, and the man turned to see what they were laughing at.

  For a moment Sam was so dumbfounded at Ethan’s sudden appearance she couldn’t look away. She thought she was imagining him, except Mrs. Bowler had to see him too if she was making coy jokes.

  His full lips quirked up in a grin when he caught her looking, and Sam shook off her stupor, returning her attention to Mrs. Bowler.

  “Um. That’ll be…uh…” She jammed a few buttons on the cash register, trying to remember her basic motor functions. “Forty-three sixty, please.”

  Mrs. Bowler handed over her credit card, and Sam completed the purchase, cramming the books into the reusable bag her best customer always insisted on using. Sam hurriedly handed over the receipt and bid Mrs. Bowler happy reading.

  “You have fun, dear.” The older woman winked and bustled out the door, the bell chiming her exit with a jingly flourish.

  Sam gripped the edge of the desk, the rough surface grating against her hands, and took a deep breath.

  When Sam failed to say anything, he offered her a raspy, “Hi.”

  She caught her breath and stared at him, unable to speak or move. She stood behind the counter and watched as he shifted from one foot to the other, looking down at his boots self-consciously.

  When she finally managed to get a word out, she wished she hadn’t, it sounded so pathetic. “Ethan?”

  He smiled that stupid, soul-jarring smile of his, and Sam’s heart swelled to near bursting. All the feelings she thought she’d left behind in her Vegas hotel room were suddenly on her all at once, making the room feel small and far too hot.

  “Hi, Sam.”

  “Are you…? What are you doing here?” The words sounded harsh, but it was only because she was having trouble swallowing, and her throat felt dry while her tongue was ten times too big for her mouth. “How did you find me?” she croaked.

  “Samantha Hart? You think there are a ton of women with that name who own bookstores in Oregon?” He shrugged, his smile never wavering. “Did you not want me to find you?”

  She shook her head, then not sure if that was giving the right answer, she switched to nodding. “I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again.”

  “I wasn’t sure you would either.”

  At least he was being honest.

  “You barely answered any of my texts. Saying ‘fine’ or giving yes or no answers…” Her grip remained tight on the countertop. She wasn’t sure what she would do with her hands if she released it. She would either hold on to him so tight she’d never want to let go, or she was going to slap him.

  “I didn’t know what I could say to you.” The bruise on his face had healed, but there was still a slightly yellow shadow left behind. His lip had healed up nicely though, and it would have been a shame if she hit him and made a new mark.

  That there were no new bruises on him had to be a good sign.

  “Julian has been leaving you alone?”

  “For now.”

  Her knuckles began to throb, and finally Sam had to let go of the counter. “It’s good to see you. You look—”

  “Sam, I know what you did.”

  “What?” She didn’t think her heart could have beat any harder, but now her pulse was hammering so loud she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.

  “The money. I know what you did to get me that money. That it was yours, not the casino’s.”

  She wasn’t sure why, but she felt embarrassed. “Oh.”

  Ethan took a few steps closer but left a gap between them as he placed a white slip on the counter. He seemed as afraid to touch her as she was to be touched. The paper was her withdrawal slip from the casino. It had been touched so often it was clear in places. Ethan looked from the counter back up to her. “You saved my life. Do you understand that?”

  She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

  “I didn’t know what to do. You… What you did was so beyond what anyone has ever done for me. You saved me. And I couldn’t begin to repay you. Literally and figuratively.” He was moving closer again, and Sam stepped in his direction.

  “You needed my help.”

  “I didn’t ask you to give me your money.”

  “I lost yours.”

  “That was the risk. It was gambling.”

  Sam shook her head. “I saw what Julian did to you. It wasn’t a question. I couldn’t let that happen to you again. Or worse.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I didn’t think you’d take the money.”

  “I wouldn’t have.”

  “So I was right.” Now they were only a foot away from each other, and his familiar smell made her want to close the gap and bury her face in his neck. “When did you find out?”

  “When I gave Julian the money.”

  That hadn’t been the reaction she’d expected. “If you’ve known the whole time, why are you just showing up now?”

  Ethan reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew a thin envelope, which he placed on the counter next to the receipt. His arm brushed against hers, and even though there was no skin-to-skin contact, her head got fuzzy.

  “What is this?”

  “Ten thousand dollars.”

  “Ethan…”

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t borrow it from anyone. You don’t have to worry about big dudes showing up hunting for it.” When Sam didn’t laugh at his poor attempt for humor, he looked a bit defeated. “I had this money coming to me already. It just wasn’t going to come through in time to pay Julian. But it’s here in time for me to pay you.”

  A wave of relief crashed over her. Now she wouldn’t have to worry about how to pay her balance off. She didn’t need to stay up at night fretting over how many books to sell, or whether she’d need to remortgage the shop. She felt…free.

  “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t just come to give you the money.”

  “No?”

  He cleared the distance and put a hand on her waist. The movement sent heat ricocheting through her whole body, and she leaned into him subconsciously until their chests touched and the warmth of him chased away the chill in her limbs.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t say more in those texts, Sam, I am.” He rested his cheek against hers so he was speaking directly into her ear. “The man I was when you left wasn’t someone you wanted to talk to though. I needed to make things right by you. I had to deserve you.”

  Ethan tilted his head back, and his gaze locked with hers. He’d gone a little hazy, but Sam blinked back tears until he was clear again.

  “You’re an idiot,” she said.

  Ethan’s brows went up, but instead of explaining herself, she kissed him. Sam held him by the belt loops, pulling him against her so she could feel the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. She had no intenti
on of letting him get away again.

  “You stupid, silly man,” she added, when they came up for breath. “The money isn’t what matters. I took out the money because of you. You’re what mattered.”

  “I’m here now. Stupid or not. I think it’s time for a little change of scenery for me. If you’re up for it.”

  Did that mean he was here to stay? “You’re staying? What about your job?” Sam was thrilled and terrified all at once.

  “If you’ll have me. I’m not sure I’m done with the business forever, but for now I could use a break. Porn was what I was good at it, and I loved what I was doing. But now there’s something else more important to me, and it might be time to try being good at that instead. What do you say?”

  She didn’t have to think about her answer. “I’m up for it.”

  Ethan cupped her face. “Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into?”

  Sam looked at him. He was a porn star. His whole working life had been spent having sex with other women. As far as relationship issues went, for most people it would be a deal breaker.

  But she’d known from the get-go.

  She nodded. “I think so.”

  “Good. One of us needs to be. Being in love is foreign territory for me.” He kissed her again, and this time she didn’t feel the least bit silly for the way her heart leapt to hear him say love.

  Because this time it was for her.

  Ethan might have been the master of dirty talk, but a four-letter word had never sounded quite so sweet before.

  About the Author

  Sierra Dean is a reformed historian. She was born and raised in the Canadian prairies and is allowed annual exit visas in order to continue her quest of steadily conquering the world one city at a time. Making the best of the cold Canadian winters, Sierra indulges in her less global interests: drinking too much tea and writing urban fantasy.

  Ever since she was a young girl she has loved the idea of the supernatural coexisting with the mundane. As an adult, however, the idea evolved from the notion of fairies in flower beds, to imagining that the rugged-looking guy at the garage might secretly be a werewolf. She has used her overactive imagination to create her own version of the world, where vampires, werewolves, fairies, gods and monsters all walk among us, and she’ll continue to travel as much as possible until she finds it for real.

  Sierra can be reached all over the place, as she’s a little addicted to social networking. Find her on:

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/sierradeanbooks

  Website: www.sierradean.com

  E-mail: sierra@sierradean.com

  Twitter: @sierradean

  Look for these titles by Sierra Dean

  Now Available:

  Secret McQueen

  Something Secret This Way Comes

  The Secret Guide to Dating Monsters

  A Bloody Good Secret

  Secret Santa

  Deep Dark Secret

  Keeping Secret

  Grave Secret

  Secret Unleashed

  Boys of Summer

  Pitch Perfect

  Coming Soon:

  Secret McQueen

  Cold Hard Secret

  A Secret to Die For

  Boys of Summer

  Perfect Catch

  She’d be the perfect catch if he could take his eye off the ball.

  Pitch Perfect

  © 2013 Sierra Dean

  Boys of Summer, Book 1

  Emmy Kasper knows exactly how lucky she is. In a sport with few opportunities for women at the pro level, she’s just landed her dream job as head athletic trainer for the San Francisco Felons baseball team. Screwing up is not an option.

  She’s lost in thought as she pedals to the spring training facility, her mind abuzz with excitement as she rounds a corner—and plows head-on into two runners. The end of her career dances before her eyes when she realizes she’s almost run over the star pitcher.

  As Tucker Lloyd watches the flustered Emmy escape with his bandana tied around her skinned knee, the view is a pleasant change from worrying about his flagging fastball. At thirty-six, the tail end of his career is glimmering on the horizon. If he can’t pull something extraordinary out of his ball cap, the new crop of rookies could make this season his last.

  The last thing either of them needs is a distraction.

  The last thing either of them expects is love.

  Warning: Contains a down-on-his-luck pitcher, a good-girl athletic therapist, chemistry that’s out of the park and sexy times that’ll make them round all the bases.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Pitch Perfect:

  What was she doing?

  Tucker’s fingers caressed the sensitive skin along her jaw and followed the upward curve of her face until he was holding the back of her head, his hand buried in her hair.

  He’d told her she could say stop whenever she wanted, but she didn’t want him to stop. She never wanted him to stop, and finally she could let him follow through without the guilt.

  Tucker kissed her cheek softly, and she let out a little sigh. He paused for a moment, but when she made no other sound aside from the exhalation, he continued the task at hand.

  His delicate kisses moved with practiced slowness from her cheek to the dip where her jaw met her neck, and there he gently licked her skin. The shocking warmth of his tongue on her made a thrill shoot through her, piercing her groin and taking her from mildly aroused to downright horny.

  Emmy no longer wondered what she was doing. She wondered instead how she had gone this long without doing it.

  She raised her palms to the front of his shirt and clasped two handfuls of the cotton into her fists, tugging him closer. Since he couldn’t physically come nearer to her with her legs in the way, she parted them and made room for his body between her thighs.

  The heat of his skin was evident even through their two layers of clothes, and once his body was flush against hers, his kiss moved from her neck to her lips. He seized her mouth in such a way she momentarily questioned if he really was the nice guy he seemed, because no nice man should kiss with the owning, demanding power Tucker was using. The way his lips parted hers and his fingers clawed at her hair was needy and insistent, full of something far more primal than she’d expected from her mild-mannered pitcher.

  She was intoxicated by it. Wanting her had made him this crazy, and she wanted to know how wild he could be.

  Her mouth yielded to his kiss, lips opening so his tongue could meet hers, teasing, playfully nipping with his teeth, deepening the kiss each time she hesitated until she was sure she might melt into a puddle on his floor. He had a robust taste of dark coffee and something else that was masculine and entirely Tucker. She’d kissed him before, but never so much and so deeply. It was as though this embrace were an abyss and he was willing her to fall into it with him.

  Releasing her hair, he braced one hand on either side of her against the counter and leaned into her so she was forced to bend backwards, the countertop meeting the small of her back.

  “Tucker,” she mumbled when he pulled away briefly. She had no other intention, nothing specific to say, she just wanted to hear how his name sounded now that she had the taste of him all over her lips. Delicious. It all sounded delicious.

  This time she closed the gap. Her hands still fisted in his shirt, she dragged him back down to her, reclaiming his mouth and returning the fevered passion with which he’d kissed her. He pushed closer, his crotch seated against hers and the rigid presence of his cock unmistakable along her inner thigh.

  Emmy wanted to say his name again, as an invitation or a call to arms, but her tongue was too tied up with his to make time for words. He growled into her mouth when she arched her hips towards him, and in response she let a moan rumble in her throat.

  She wasn’t going to say no, and if he was waiting for her to stop this, he had another thing coming. It had been months since she’d last had sex—yet another sign things with her and Simon had
shifted gears into the platonic—and she’d been denying herself Tucker all that time.

  To let him know what she was thinking, she pulled back abruptly from the kiss and looked him in the eyes. His cheeks were flushed, and the skin around his mouth was red from their rough kisses. She was willing to bet his morning stubble had done a number on her skin, but she didn’t care. None of it mattered except for getting him out of his stupid pajama pants and getting them both back into those beautiful cotton sheets.

  “Yes,” she said breathlessly, trying to remember the last time a kiss had made her dizzy with need. To drive home her words, she let go of his shirt and grabbed his ass with both hands, tugging him so close they both gasped. “Yes.” This time there was a growl to the word.

  “Okay.” He stepped back and pulled her to her feet so quickly she stumbled. But he was there, strong and sure, holding her to him. He smelled fabulous for someone who’d just woken up. Maybe they were a good pheromone match, but to Emmy he smelled like fresh pepper and cotton, and it was a glorious combination. He made her head swim with desire, and her usually too-busy brain was, for once, quiet and focused.

  Tucker explored her body, running his hands over her T-shirt until he found the hem, then the first shock of real skin-to-skin contact sent Emmy reeling. His big hands were warm, and though his fingertips were rough and calloused from years of pitching, his touch was light and sensitive. Everywhere his fingers traveled a spark of electricity followed, igniting a desire within in her that had long lain dormant. When he lifted her shirt, she didn’t protest, although she’d never been disrobed in a kitchen before.

  When her top was off, she didn’t feel any of the painful awareness of her body she had with other lovers. She’d often felt like she was being assessed and catalogued by other men. Great body, decent boobs. Or, short legs, too much ass.

  With Tucker it was different. The way he gazed at her with her top off was so worshipful and adoring she didn’t think he was comparing her to anyone else. He was seeing her for who she was.