by Rita Herron
Chase nuzzled Maddie's neck and pulled her on top of him, his body hardening at the sight of her naked breasts. "So, you wanted me to have a bachelor pad, huh?"
"Well, I thought you wanted to be a bachelor. So I figured you might as well have a proper love nest for entertaining your love bunnies." Maddie nibbled at the sensitive spot just below his ear where the scent of whip cream still lingered.
"My love bunnies?" Chase sighed with a grin. "So, are you going to dress up like a bunny for me?"
Maddie rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, honey."
Chase laughed. "Seriously, you're the only love bunny I want, sweetheart. You fulfill my every fantasy."
"Speaking of fantasies?" Maddie quirked a mischievous brow. "Do you still have that black eye patch?"
Chase's laughter rumbled deep from his chest. "Oh, yeah, you did mention you have a thing for pirates." Chase felt for his shirt, unearthed his black eye patch, and winked as she tied it around his head, "I did vow to love, honor, and cherish now, didn't I?" He began by stroking his fingertips across her sensitive nipples. "And I cherish every part of you. This nipple." He leaned up to taste each rosy tip. "And this one, too." He laved her until Maddie groaned and dug her hands into his hair.
"Oh, Chase."
"And I love this tender skin." He bent and kissed the underside of her breast. "We will have to make a few changes in this room though."
Maddie pressed her heat against his erection. "Oh, really?"
"Yeah. Those orange nude paintings on the wall have to go." His fingers traced a fiery path down her breasts to her navel as he gestured toward the deflated plastic figure on the floor. "And let's definitely get rid of that pitiful blow-up woman." He tweaked her nipple, spread a little more chocolate sauce on the peak, then licked the tip again, loving her slow and so deep her body responded with an answering, burning ache. "I'd much rather have the real thing."
Maddie moaned at the erotic sound of his suckling noises. "What about the heart-shaped bed?"
"A little too Vegas for me."
"And the strobe lights?"
"They're making me motion sick." Chase slipped a finger down her stomach to tease her curls. "Besides, I'd rather have natural light—I want to see every bit of you."
Maddie reached down and cupped him in her hand, smiling when his sex surged full and hard against her palm.
Chase glanced at the ceiling, and the walls, enjoying the different views of their naked bodies almost as much as having Maddie on top of him. "But we might have to keep the mirrors."
Maddie straddled him. "Oh, so you like the mirrors?"
Chase fit his shaft at the tip of her sex, then pulled her down on top of him, filling her with his throbbing sex. Her moan of ecstasy nearly brought him to the brink. "Yeah, we might want to add some above the sunken tub." He began to rock within her. "And the kitchen island."
She gripped his shoulders and pulled him deeper inside her.
"And the laundry room, and that walk-in closet..."
Maddie clawed at his back, pumping him harder as she leaned over to whisper in his ear, "And when we have babies, we might have to think about building that secret tunnel."
Chase thrust inside her again, filling her to the core. Maddie threw her head back and screamed in ecstasy.
"Secret tunnel?" Chase's own release began to spiral as he plunged into her again. "Heck, sweetheart, we might have to soundproof the walls."
The End
Page forward for more from Rita Herron
Excerpt from
Sleepless in Savannah
by
Rita Herron
Chapter 1
"Listen, Sophie, just follow the seven sacred rules for trapping a man." Maddie Summers-Holloway quirked an eyebrow, a hint of mischief in her sparkling brown eyes. "Then you'll snag Lance and we'll be sisters-in-law."
Sophie Lane laughed, squinting at her reflection in the mirror of the green room. Now that Maddie had been married an entire month, she was the expert. "Right. I'm sure he'll fall for those old tricks."
Not that she wanted to trick anyone into marriage. She didn't. She simply wanted Lance to fall in love with her the way she had fallen for him. And she had caught glimpses of moments when she knew he was attracted to her. That kind of chemistry she couldn't have misread.
But he'd blown her off with as much gusto as she would blow out her birthday candles a few days from now; anything to make the flaming evidence of aging disappear.
Thirty and still single.
At least she had a few good eggs left, or so her doctor had said at her last physical. That had made her feel sooo much better.
Maddie gave her a sympathetic look. "Hey, they might work. Lance is attracted to you. He just has some commitment issues to resolve. I swear, he still feels compelled to uphold that stupid bachelor pact Chase and my brothers made when they were kids."
Sophie sighed and sipped her diet Coke. She could understand young boys making an agreement never to get married, even writing it down, but to renew it as men? Even though they were worried romance might interfere with their work schedules and newly founded business, the pact was ridiculous. "At least Chase tore his up for you."
"Yeah, tearing up that pact was a beautiful thing." A dreamy glow settled into Maddie's eyes—the elated, happy look only newly married women possessed.
The look Sophie wanted for herself.
She leaned forward, searching for laugh lines in the mirror, but discovered frown ones instead, then pivoted the chair toward Arial, her makeup artist. "Do you think I need more powder around the eyes?"
Arial shook her head, her carrot-colored hair bobbing. "Too much, and it settles, uh..." Arial's expression turned to horror as she realized her faux pas. "It makes you look too made-up."
In other words—old.
Sophie winced. She didn't need a reminder. The ominous onset of the big three-oh had precipitated her willingness to trick Maddie's brother Lance into this date. After all, nothing else had worked so far.
Desperate desires called for desperate measures.
She was not desperate, she reminded herself. And this would be the very last time she offered her heart up to be broken by Lance.
After all, he'd only agreed to appear today on the "Dating Game" episode out of guilt for treating her so poorly a few weeks ago. Why, the insufferable man had accused her of digging up sordid secrets about his family to air on TV just to spike her ratings. As if she would do such a thing.
Although she had conceded to a little minor manipulation today—the dating game was rigged so Lance would take home the prize.
Her.
Once he won, they'd embark on a romantic weekend getaway to Cancun. She hoped to dance her way into his heart on the beach, into his bed in the bungalow, and maybe into his life forever before the return flight home.
Maddie's wedding ring glittered as she finger-combed her auburn hair, and envy curled in Sophie's belly. "Rule number one:" Maddie chirped, "Bait the hook with a juicy worm."
"You mean I'm fish bait?"
"Right, translation—dress and act like a sex siren."
Sophie fluffed her own short black spiked hairdo, wondering if she should let her hair grow. Or dye it red, or let it go blond the way she used to wear it in Vegas.
A shudder gripped her.
No. Someone might recognize her from her past, and that could mean trouble: the kiss of death for the Sophie Knows show and the decent reputation she'd built for herself. Short and black would have to do. And if Lance didn't like it...
"Rule number two: Dangle the bait."
"Translation?"
"Shake your booty in his face and tease him mercilessly." Maddie tapped her metallic blue fingernails on the arm of the chair. "You won't have any problems there. Once Lance sees how fabulous you look in that string bikini, he'll be so tongue-tied he won't be able to resist you."
Sophie eyed her derriere in the mirror. Those extra five pounds she'd gained from pigging out on
chocolate kisses would not help her case. "I'm not counting on it."
"Then move on to rule number three: Give him a nibble, then yank the line."
"Let me guess. A little kissing is allowed, even a little tongue, but no heavy petting."
"You're getting the hang of it."
Sophie chewed her nail. "Where did you get all this sage advice anyway?"
"Cosmo, of course."
Sophie pursed her lips. Of course, Cosmo knew everything about dating, sex, and relationships. "Okay, what's rule number four?"
"Make him swim in circles to catch the bait." Maddie wiggled her hips. "See, wiggle your butt and prance around with your boobs half falling out, but don't let him touch them... yet."
"You are incorrigible, Maddie."
Maddie was on a roll now. "Rule number five: Make sure his teeth are sunk in, then reel him in. Translation: Getting half-naked and sweaty is allowed, but no consummation. And six: Once you reel him in, keep the line tight. That means keep him sated."
"Ahh, the fun part." Sophie sighed, her stomach fluttering. It was almost airtime. "I just hope we get that far."
"Me, too." Maddie grinned. " 'Cause rule number seven is to drop the line, rebait the hook, and find another fish."
Sophie sighed. "Right. A girl has to know when to cast another line."
"But you won't have to," Maddie argued. "He'll fall in love with you in Cancun. After all, you're beautiful, smart, and wonderful, Sophie; how can he resist?"
Sophie forced a smile. "Let's hope he never figures out that I set him up to be my date."
Maddie pressed a finger to her lips. "Don't worry; it'll be our little secret."
* * *
Their little secret?
Lance Summers had just emerged from the bathroom when he heard his sister talking to Sophie Lane about him.
The little sneak.
Fuming inside, he leaned closer to the doorway, watching as she bent her spiked dark head in collaboration with his darling kid sister's curly russet one. So, troublemaker Maddie and her cohort in crime, Sophie Lane, had set him up. He should have known the two conniving females would turn his acceptance as a bachelor for her silly dating game show into a scheme to get the two of them together. Now that Maddie was married, she'd embarked on a quest to get everyone around her hitched.
What else did Sophie have up that silk-clad sleeve of hers? Were she and Maddie already choosing wedding rings and china patterns? Did she have a limo waiting outside, ready to rush them to the church? Were they naming his children?
Sweat broke out on his brow and dribbled down his cheek.
Lord help him.
He was not ready to relinquish sole custody of his remote or forgo Sunday football for a relentless day at the mall, purse holding, while his wife tried on countless expensive outfits that he couldn't afford.
Footsteps clattered across the green room and he ducked behind the open doorway, determined not to get caught spying. Sophie pranced out the door, sashaying her voluptuous little body past like a sex siren purring his name, beckoning him to follow along like a bewitched innocent trailing along behind the Pied Piper. Maddie sauntered beside her, the two of them huddled together in hushed whispers, no doubt negotiating the details on the demise of his treasured bachelorhood.
He waited until they'd rounded the corner before he emerged, silently congratulated himself for not falling under her spell, and wiped the sweat from his brow as he formulated his own plan. They might think they'd outsmarted him, but he had been dodging husband hunters since college. Right now he had to focus on the company he and his brother, Reid, had just gotten off the ground; he could not be sidetracked by exotic dark eyes, red-hot lips, and a pair of sexy legs that belonged to a certain talk-show host.
He liked quiet, sensible females who didn't draw attention to themselves.
He had to remain in control.
And every time he got near Sophie that control shattered like a sheet of glass struck by a bulldozer.
The jazzy music that signified the beginning of Sophie Knows piped through the sound system, and he jogged across the hall to the room where the other contestants were waiting. Two other sets of bachelors had to endure the taxing ordeal of the dating game before he was forced through the torture.
He found his competition for round three pacing nervously.
"I'm Lance Summers, bachelor number three." He extended his hand in greeting.
The tall, scrawny blond offered a wimpy handshake. "Bachelor number one, Bailey Boxlighter."
"Rory Dalton." The dark-haired football type pumped Lance's hand, nearly breaking his fingers, as if brute force would prove his manhood. "Bachelor number two."
"Listen, you guys." Lance extracted his numb appendages, barely resisting the urge to shake back the feeling in them. For God's sake, he was six-two himself, almost two hundred pounds, not some kind of pantywaist. Who did this cretin think he was?
"What's up?" Boxlighter asked.
Lance jerked his thoughts back on track. "I was wondering if one of you would trade spots with me."
The blond frowned, his tanned forehead glowing bronze in the harsh lighting. No, almost orange. The guy must use that fake tanning cream. In fact, he'd missed a spot on his forehead.
"Why the switch?" the football hulk asked.
Lance shrugged, fighting the urge to brag that Sophie wanted him so badly she'd set him up. No sense rubbing it in to the other guys that they hadn't stood a chance. He didn't have to show off to prove his manliness. "Uh, I... I hate the number three." A lame excuse if he ever heard one, but he was groping in the dark without a flashlight. "It's my unlucky number."
The blond wrinkled his nose. "What are you, some kind of numerology freak?"
Lance shrugged. Braniac.
"I'll trade," the football hulk said. "I'm kind of superstitious. Three's my jersey number."
Lance chuckled to himself. "All right, buddy. You take the third chair and I'll take the middle one."
"Do we need to tell the producer?"
Lance shook his head. "Naw, they don't really care what number we are." Besides, he didn't want to take the chance on Sophie discovering the switch.
"All right." Rory grinned. "And thanks for changing man. I feel lucky tonight."
The guy's cocky grin irritated Lance. The hulk wasn't getting the date through his charm. Still, the switch would mean he was off the hook, so what difference did the guy's attitude make?
Now, on to the next part of his plan—disguise his voice and offer terrible answers so Sophie would never expect the switch. Then he'd be off the hook and free to get on with his bachelor life.
Just what he wanted.
The assistant producer peeked her head in the room and motioned for them to follow her. The orange-faced blond checked his reflection in the mirror, then licked his finger to tame a cowlick that had sprung up in back.
The football player flexed his muscles in a boxer's warm-up motion. "I'm ready."
Lance gritted his teeth as protective instincts for Sophie surfaced. Did he really want this lug to go out with her?
* * *
Sophie fought the quiver of nerves that tightened her chest as she congratulated the second couple. "Shandra and Dwayne will be heading off to Barbados in the morning. And we'll see them back next week to hear all about their romantic getaway."
Applause rang out and the audience cheered as she and the happy couple waved to the crowd. So far, their remake version of the Dating Game show had been a huge success.
Now she would take the hot seat.
"Ladies and gentlemen, for our third couple, the producers felt it would be a nice segue into the singles series we're running this week if I take part in the game."
Laughter bubbled through the audience.
Sophie played into their excitement. "I'm going to be asking three bachelors questions of my own; then I'll choose from one of them. Our camera crew will follow along on the date and you'll get to see firsthand if our dati
ng game leads to successful matchmaking."
More applause, and the cameras panned the audience, where Sophie's assistant polled the crowd for comments.
The producer reviewed last-minute instructions with Sophie while another crew member miked her as she settled onto the stool on the right side of the floral divider. Neon-green letters spelled out the dating game in cursive lettering, while yellow daisies dotted the black silkscreen. It was very seventies, very retro. She felt as if she should be wearing go-go boots and a miniskirt.
Tense, she wet her lips and pulled her questions from her jacket pocket. The low sound of voices and men's shoes shuffling onstage echoed from behind the screen as the bachelors situated themselves in their assigned chairs. She pictured Lance's handsome strong jaw and wondered how he'd dressed for the occasion. Had he worn those faded jeans that hugged his muscular butt and that white shirt unbuttoned at the top with the cuffs rolled up? Or a dark suit that would accentuate those sultry coffee-colored eyes? Or maybe he'd decided to be daring and had sprung for some tight leather pants?
A frisson of desire danced in her belly at the thought. She had wanted Lance forever.
Well, for at least the last six months, but it seemed like forever.
The producer signaled showtime and the lights darkened onstage, one dim camera light zeroing in on her. "Welcome back to Sophie Knows," Sophie said. The females in the crowd started whispering their choices behind their hands. Were they admiring Lance? Choosing him for her weekend tryst?
The music zinged to a close and Sophie pasted on her bright entertainment smile. "All right, bachelor number one. What is your idea of a romantic date?"
Bachelor number one's chair rattled. "First we'd start off with an afternoon shopping spree, where I'd buy my lady a sexy party dress. Something slinky and expensive." The audience murmured their approval. "Then we'd take a nice moonlight drive in my convertible to a cozy little Italian place on the beach. And afterward..." He let the sentence trail off, his voice low and seductive. "Well, afterward we'd have dessert. But it wouldn't be in the restaurant."
