Foreign Affair

by Shelli Stevens

  His words sent a rush of hot moisture between her legs and she bit back a groan.

  “Stop this,” she begged hoarsely. “Please, Clint.”

  “Or do you like it hard?” he went on, ignoring her plea. “Do you want a guy to bite and suck on your nipples until they’re red and marked?” He lowered his head, his breath hot against her cheek. “Do you like to hold a man’s head between your legs—let him eat you as if you’re the fucking blue ribbon pie at the fair?”

  Shock ripped through her, from the top of her head to her toes which were curling. Shock and absolute lust. No man had ever spoken to her in such a crude, sexual way before. And more so, no man had ever fucked her hard like that. The idea of Clint being the one to do it and the imagery his words created…

  This time a groan did escape and she could feel the dampness of her panties between her legs.

  “Or maybe both.” His eyes darkened and he used his free hand to pull her tighter against him. Through the abrasive fabric of his jeans she felt him growing harder against her belly.

  “One thing is certain—I’m going to enjoy finding out.” He slid his hand down her spine to her bottom, bunching the fabric of her dress.

  Cool air tickled her buttocks, and her pulse quickened as he pulled the dress over her hips. His fingers plucked at the strip of thong between the cheeks of her ass.

  “I was wondering about this.” His mouth hovered just above hers. “Whether you wear thongs or just no panties at all.”

  “Both,” her voice trembled, and she couldn’t believe she was admitting it. “Sometimes a thong, sometimes nothing.”

  Why wasn’t she pushing him away? She should be fighting this—fighting him. But at this moment nothing else mattered except being locked in this sensual power struggle with Clint.

  She drew in a ragged breath and before she could reconsider, pressed her body firmly against his.

  He gave a murmur of approval. “I’ve been wondering about another thing.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  His lips brushed across hers, ever so lightly and a tremble racked her body.

  “What’s that?” She brushed her lips over his this time.

  He followed the strip of her thong down with his fingers, low between her cheeks. With a slight tug, she felt him slip his finger beneath the fabric, before his fingers grazed over the swollen lips of her sex.

  Fire raced through her veins and her knees weakened.

  “This,” his voice grew hoarser now. “I wanted to know how wet I made you.”

  He pushed a finger between the folds and inside her.

  “Hell.” His mouth grazed the side of her neck as he pushed the finger deep and began to slowly penetrate her with it. “You’re soaked for me.”

  She bit her lip, not so far gone that she would admit the words aloud.

  “Allie. My Allie-cat. My seductive little kitten.” He curled his finger, moving it along the wall of her channel. He hit an ultra sensitive spot and she gasped. “Admit you want me.”

  “The hell I do.” She moved against his hand.

  “Really?” He pulled his finger from her and she cried out at the loss of sensation. “Well, we’ll just have to see about that.”

  He cupped her ass and lifted her, carrying her over to the bed before he dropped her down. She bounced once and scrambled to sit up.

  Going to his knees in front of her, he grabbed her legs and pulled her to the edge.

  “You don’t want me?”

  “No,” she lied. The breath locked in her throat as he trailed his fingers up her calves.

  “Not even a little bit?” He pushed her dress up around her waist again and bracketed her hips with his hands.

  “Not even—” she gasped when he dropped a kiss on the silky fabric still covering her mound, “—a little bit.”

  “Hmm.” His tongue traced her slit through her thong. Up and down. The pressure and wetness of his mouth alone almost made her come.

  Tension coiled hot in her belly and the walls of her sex clenched in anticipation.

  “I’m not sure I believe you, kitten.” He hooked his fingers into the sides of her thong and tugged it off her hips. The tiny scrap of material slid down her body and off.

  Oh God, it was insane how bad she wanted his mouth on her. She clenched her fists and stared down at Clint kneeling between her thighs.

  He gave the slightest smile as he studied her swollen sex. Almost like he was forming a plan of attack.

  His breathing grew heavier as he gripped her calves and lifted her legs over his shoulders. He kissed the inside of her thigh, then caught the sensitive skin between his teeth lightly.

  Allison leaned back onto her elbows, pushing herself closer to his mouth. She wouldn’t be the one to lose control.

  He raised his gaze to hers.

  Without looking away, he pushed his tongue inside her and despite her vow, she was lost.

  Mission: Build a new life. Confront the past. Plan the wedding of the man she loves.

  Tangled in Tulle

  © 2011 Nikki Duncan

  Tulle and Tulips, Book 1

  Lori Mullins yearns to shake off her past and live free of shadows and fear. Yet her only shot at obtaining the capital to launch her business rests in a man she met during a lie. A man whose voice alone turned her from jaded escort to giddy schoolgirl. A man who almost died because of her.

  Trevor Masters can call off his search for the woman he loves. The woman he dreamt of while comatose. The quest for her heart, however, is only beginning. The trick will be convincing her he doesn’t blame her—and that she deserves to accept herself as the woman who holds his heart.

  Business negotiations land Lori in a heavenly hell. Heaven that Trevor is close enough to touch. Hell that she’s planning her first designer wedding. His. And something’s not quite right. The kind, compassionate man she fell for all those months ago, the man who’s engaged to another, seems intent on wooing her…

  Warning: This title contains a balloon-toting rodent, a hero scheming for love, a heroine evading complications, and hot sex.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Tangled in Tulle:

  “He asked not to be disturbed.”

  Trevor glanced up from his computer, eavesdropped on Gina in the outer office. He’d intended to shower off the week of travel, but had been sidetracked by a panicky phone call and the need to send an emergency email. Closed in the privacy of his office he only bothered wrapping a towel around his waist.

  Now sidetracked again, he waited to see who Gina was speaking to and how she’d handle it. He only waited a couple beats.

  “Then he shouldn’t have insisted on a partnership with me.”

  He grinned, easily picturing the scene in his office waiting area. Judging by the shift of their voices, Gina had positioned herself between Lori and his door. And if Lori’s tone was a clear indicator, she was rediscovering her fire. She certainly didn’t sound like the uncertain, nearly defeated shell of herself she’d been the last times he’d seen her.

  “I’m sorry,” Gina said. “You will have to come back later.”

  “No.”

  After hitting “send” on the email, he tightened the towel at his waist and moved around the desk, eyeing the door, half hoping Lori listened to Gina and half hoping she bulldozed inside. Something about her gave him the impression Gina would never know how she’d been bested and why he thought that was one of the many mysteries of Lori he wanted to solve.

  “Ms. Mullins.”

  “Gina,” Lori stated, mirroring Gina’s calmly modulated tone.

  “I have my orders.”

  “And still I suggest you move. Or I will move you. Either way I am going in.” She paused for a long moment between each statement, giving Gina a chance to respond.

  Trevor glanced between the main door and the door to the bathroom which led to his private apartment. Lori was one of few people privy to the set up. Mostly naked, there would be no escaping her if she got past Gina
.

  Assuming he was interested in escape, which he wasn’t.

  Again calculating the distance he knew well, he considered darting to the bathroom and dropping the towel. If she was going to disturb him she may as well be disturbed.

  “I’ll tell him you put up a good fight,” Lori said from just beyond the door. Silent and slow, the knob turned.

  Glancing down at the towel, he shrugged and leaned against the nearest chair. If she had issues seeing him without his clothes she’d learn to listen to Gina. He’d have to consider how such an issue played into his plans. His bride-to-be couldn’t take issue with his nudity.

  “Trevor.” She addressed him before she was even in the office. “I need—”

  Her words died as she flung the door wide. Her mouth dropped. She stumbled to a halt. For the first time since her return she failed to hide her reaction. Instant arousal, judging by her eyes.

  Gina silently closed the door, essentially imprisoning him and Lori together. He restrained himself. Instead of reaching out to her and answering her desire, he crossed his arms over his chest. Instead of listening to the wails of his body calling out to her, he sought her gaze as directly as he would any opponent.

  “How can I make your day better, Lori?”

  Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Closed again. She stuck her hands in her pockets where she fisted and unfisted them judging from the shifting of her pants.

  Trevor said nothing. Only waited, more pleased than a wolf scenting his life mate. Like a wolf, his body quivered until each hair follicle became a sensory receiver in the chilled breeze from the air conditioner. Lavender and mint. As if she’d just stepped from a garden or kitchen, her sweet scent sauntered around him, brushed teasing caresses over him until goose bumps took over his skin.

  “You need to stop.” She sounded far from strong in her conviction. Whatever her conviction was about.

  “Stop what?” Dreaming of you? Wanting you more than before?

  “Stop whatever it is you’re up to. You sent me balloons.” The last was a verbal foot stomp.

  “Ah.” He’d confused her. “I can’t do that.”

  The woman who’d testified against her former bosses and tormentors before slipping into darkness—he’d coaxed a few more details out of Breck—deserved to find joy again.

  “Do it anyway.” Her tone strengthened. She advanced on him—slowly—no longer distracted to the point of wide-eyed speechlessness by his near nudity. “You have me planning your wedding. You shouldn’t be sending me gifts or trying to lure me into falling for you again.”

  Her voice rose fractionally with each syllable of her tirade.

  “What is so wrong with falling for me, Lori?” He raised a brow, thrilled at how quickly his gift had gotten her riled. Damn if he wasn’t going to poke the lioness a bit and dare her into revealing her feelings. “You never complained the first time.”

  “This is different. Randy wasn’t around then.” She blanched and rocked back as if she’d been struck. “Was she?” Disgust darkened her demand. “Was Randy around? Were you playing us both? Is that how you came to be engaged so soon? That’s it.”

  “It makes sense.” She shook her head and sneered. “You bastard.”

  She lunged, landing a solid uppercut to his jaw before he could defend against her. His teeth clacked together.

  “Lori.” He grappled for her wrists, barely thwarting a second hit when the towel slipped and he grabbed for it. “Stop.”

  “You son of a bitch.” She punctuated her driving words with punches, some of which he blocked one-handed. Others he let go for the sake of keeping the towel secure at his waist.

  “I thought you were a better man.”

  More than a little surprised by her hand-to-hand abilities, and a little tired of defending against her, he released the towel, gripped her arms tightly just above her elbows and yanked her forward. The towel loosened, but until he let her go it would stay in place.

  “Stop.” He pinned her close, fighting the urge to roll his overly-aware-of-her dick against her.

  “You suck.”

  Not how I’d like. “You’re wrong.”

  “Bullshit. You’re only a player. A lousy, predictable, pus—”

  He seized her mouth in a kiss and held nothing back. He let his hurt and loneliness, love and confusion, desire and sadness pour forth. When she gasped for a breath, his tongue sought the inner haven of her mouth, where he found a slice of heaven he’d been missing, and thwarted any insults remaining in her arsenal.

  She’d misunderstood his intentions about the wedding, but the misunderstanding had led her here. Into his arms with fire flashing inside and igniting her spirit. Damn if he’d let her go.

  When the tension in her petite curves finally uncoiled and she relaxed into him, when she allowed herself to enjoy his touch, when she began to kiss him in return, he straightened. Only an inch or two separated their mouths, a space easily conquered again, yet it felt more like miles.

  Not sure he could trust her to resist wailing on him some more, he retained his grip on her arms. At some point she’d rested her hands on his hips, just above the towel. Though she probably gave the contact no thought, his body noticed and responded with racing tingles radiating from beneath her hands.

  “I’m not a player, Lori.”

  “Bull.”

  “Yes, I asked you to plan my wedding.”

  In racing, you’re in or you’re out. Sometimes both at the same time…

  Burning Rubber

  © 2011 Pamela Britton

  Extreme Racing, Book 2

  Go ahead, call Callie Monroe the queen of fools. She already does. After NASCAR slammed its doors in her face, she came up with the idea for the X-TREME Racing League. Now she’s all but relegated to pit row while her business partner—aka XRL’s bankroll—takes the credit.

  One look at NASCAR champion Derrick Derringer red-lines Callie’s fantasy gauge. And when he actually notices her next to her Playboy-hot boss, he makes her sweat.

  Derrick has always been attracted to the studious type, but Callie’s got the cherry on top of her beauty and brains: she’s a gear head. She’s also scared to death of him. He’s never had to work hard to get a woman in his bed, but with Callie, he finds himself changing tactics for a prize he never expected. Her heart.

  Callie has no intention of being Derrick’s next “checkered flag”, but if she’s to lure him over to XRL, she’ll play the game. A dangerous one. Not only because his kiss sends her focus sliding out of control. There’s a saboteur who seems intent on putting XRL into the wall—no matter how many people have to die.

  Warning: The author doesn’t guarantee this book will help you “get lucky”, but does have documented proof that the love, laughter, naughtiness and hot, hot, hot sex in this book will leave you gasping for air. Dangerous curves ahead!

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Burning Rubber:

  It had to be a dream.

  She couldn’t be lying on a bed, Derrick Derringer staring down at her, the remnants of his kiss still imprinted on her lips.

  “What’s going on?” she heard herself ask. He was blurry.

  “You fell asleep.” He drew far enough away she could see him. “I drove you to your hotel room.”

  There was something wrong with that scenario. She knew it, just as she knew she should be doing something right now—ordering him from her room, maybe. Yelling at him.

  About what?

  She didn’t know, she just knew something about this scene was all wrong, she was just too frickin’ tired to figure out what it was.

  And so, in the end, all she said was, “Oh.”

  “Go back to sleep.”

  She closed her eyes. Fingers stroked her forehead. She smiled. That felt good. Her mom used to do that to her when she was little.

  “Shhh.”

  Even though she knew she shouldn’t, she turned her head toward the hand, moaned softly. The fingers riffled through her h
air.

  “Houston, we might have a problem,” she heard him murmur.

  “Hmm?” she asked, the darkness sucking her back down.

  “I promised myself I wouldn’t touch you, and yet here I am.”

  “Feels good,” she slurred, rolling onto her side. Why were her shoes still on? She shouldn’t be in bed with her shoes. She kicked them off.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Wha—?” she mumbled.

  “Get undressed.”

  “Oh.”

  Something touched her nose. A kiss. She was certain of it, and since this was a dream, she turned her head, waited.

  She sensed a whisper of a breath cross her cheek. It caused her to sigh, Callie decided this was the most delicious dream she’d ever had. So real. So lifelike. She didn’t want it to end.

  “I’m going to kiss you on the lips.”

  Her whole body leapt to life at the mere thought of it.

  Less than a heartbeat later, his lips lightly grazed her own and then, as if that wasn’t nearly enough for him, those lips came back again, this time pressing with an intensity that made her sigh in contentment. She opened her mouth, tired of waiting for him to take the initiative.

  His tongue touched hers.

  She wanted him. She wanted him bad.

  He slid onto the bed next to her. She liked that, actually turned in to him so they were belly to belly and, goodness, crotch to crotch. Any doubt he was attracted to her banished at the intimate touch. The bulge of his crotch sent a fission of electricity through her that made her whole body leap to life. She luxuriated in the feeling, embraced it, told Derrick without words she wanted more of him.

  He pulled his tongue away for a second. She wiggled against him, trying to entice him back.

  “You’re going to be the death of me,” she heard him say.

  She slid a hand beneath his shirt. He had taut abs, but she knew that, had seen him on a reality show once upon a time, knew he worked out. But to actually feel the hard contours of his muscles, to run her finger up the shallow valleys and the hard ridges.