by Meg Benjamin
Maxwell Turner wasn’t only kissing her, he had his body so tight against hers there was no doubt remaining that various parts of his anatomy had increased in girth, and she wasn’t talking about his pecs anymore. His tongue swept into her mouth, the lingering hint of coffee vanishing as her taste buds switched to take him in. Clean, warm, and oh my God, the boy could kiss. Heat flushed from her core outward, her breasts grew hot and heavy, and damn if she remembered why she’d turned him away all these years. Strong fingers curled around her neck as he deepened their contact. She responded, her tongue brushing his, lips and teeth getting into the act. She grabbed his shoulders for support, digging into the firm muscles under her fingertips. He ate greedily at her mouth until her head spun, senses shifting to overload.
He snuck a hand around her torso, fingers spread wide as he slid under her shirt to caress the bare skin of her lower back. Warm palm in full contact with her body, he pulled her even tighter against his groin, and his rigid erection dug into her belly. Her breasts were crushed between them, nipples tight and aching. Max fastened onto her tongue and sucked it into his mouth, a flash of ecstasy shooting through her core and setting her on fire. How long had it been since she’d felt like this from simply kissing? She scraped her fingernails down his back and he dragged his lips from hers, groaning loudly. Air rushed back into her lungs, and she shoved her fingers into his back pockets and yanked him forward. The leg between hers nudged her knees farther apart before sliding closer to connect with her sex.
His assault on her senses continued as he worked his way along her jaw to press kisses and nips to the tender skin below her ear. The need inside escalated to the point she was ready to peel off her clothes and go for it right there. She was empty, and aching. Their combined breathing carried loud on the air, echoing in the hollow spaces of the unfinished room.
Max returned to her lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, mimicking the rocking motion of his hips, and she whimpered. It was too much and not nearly enough. He released his grip on her hair and cupped her ass instead, dragging her up his body until she rode the solid ridge of his erection. Tingling, flashes of heat, pleasure—all of it washed over her in waves and she clutched him tighter. Good Lord, she was going to climax like this, rubbing him like a cat.
He lifted her left leg higher and looped her knee over his elbow, forcing her back hard to the wall. Spread wide open, she was defenseless as he ground against her, the seam line of her jeans making contact with her clit through the thin layer of her thong and she panted hard. So close.
Some rules just beg to be broken.
Just Like That
© 2010 Erin Nicholas
The Bradfords, Book 2
Danika Steffen can take care of herself. Watching her mother slowly succumb to muscular dystrophy convinced Danika that total independence is the only way to go. Anything that needs fixing, she’s got the tools. So what if she’s never had an orgasm. No one really needs one, right?
Sam Bradford is good at two things: his job as a paramedic, and seducing women. Being dependable? Not so much. Losing his father at age fifteen tore a permanent hole in his life, and now he’s determined never to let anyone need him that much. Enjoying women, though, is definitely on the menu. As long as they understand his unbreakable rule: one night only. Until a date with Danika Steffen ends not in her bed, but with a trip to the ER.
Danika may have a broken wrist, but Sam’s the one suffering…an intense case of guilt. And instead of doing things to her, he only wants to do things for her. Which would drive her crazy if not for the sneaking suspicion that Sam needs a little TLC too. And damned if she doesn’t want to be the one to give it…
Warning: Contains an I’ll-do-it-myself girl who can fix anything, a commitment-phobic guy who can’t fix anything, and a whole new way to look at butter. Yes, butter.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Just Like That:
She was desperate. Plain and simple. She had to wash her hair or she was going to go crazy and there was absolutely no way she could do it herself.
It was so frustrating! To not be able to do the simplest, most normal thing made her want to scream. She didn’t want to need Sam, not like this. She was kind of okay with needing him physically, with feeling like she would die if he didn’t touch her. At least, she was getting used to it. She wasn’t as okay with needing him to make her a sandwich, unzip her dress and wash her hair.
Talk about pathetic.
This was exactly the kind of thing she avoided at all costs. She never let other people take care of her. She’d been sick with the flu for almost a week four years ago and it had taken her three days to call Carmen and even tell her and another two before she would let Carmen come over. She hated the feeling of vulnerability, of weakness, of being a burden.
Sam thought this was fun now. He felt responsible now. He was even making it sexy.
How long would any of that last?
Not as long as she would remember being dependent on him for the smallest thing.
She was able to wiggle out of her panties and the nightgown was loose enough that she could pull it over her head one-handed. The swimming suit was more of a challenge. It was a one-piece and she was able to get the bottom of the suit up by pulling one side up, then the other until it was in place. She threaded her casted hand in through the strap and up onto her shoulder, then the other side.
“I’m going to need a plastic bag to put over the cast,” she said as she stepped back into the hallway, still pulling her right shoulder strap up.
Sam was standing across from her, leaning back against the wall, but he pushed away as she stepped through the door. His eyes were wide.
“Wow.”
She stopped short at the look in his eyes. She might as well have been naked. He was looking at her as if memorizing every curve and prominence.
She tried to ignore the tingles that seemed to erupt everywhere as she realized that he was imagining peeling her swimming suit off of her. It was so clear, in fact, it was like reading his mind. “You going to be able to do this?” she asked.
“Definitely. I’m a little tight in my jeans, but I’m okay.”
Her eyes dropped to his fly in spite of her effort to avoid it. He was grinning when she looked back into his eyes.
“Let’s do this,” she muttered, stepping past him into the bathroom.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She looked over her shoulder. “Washing my hair,” she clarified.
“Of course.”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “The garbage bags are under the sink.”
“I’m all over it.”
She wanted him all over her. “Garbage bags.” She wasn’t sure if she said it to try to distract her own thoughts or to again clarify what he was all over.
“Right.”
She started the water running while Sam went to retrieve a plastic bag from the kitchen. She knew the moment he was back because the air temperature in the bathroom spiked and she could feel him behind her, checking out her butt.
“Isn’t that how we ended up in this mess?” she asked without looking at him.
“Yep,” he said unapologetically. “But it isn’t my fault. You can’t take someone to the edge of the Grand Canyon and expect him not to look.”
With the water the right temperature, she turned to frown at him. “My butt reminds you of the Grand Canyon?”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Again, thinking too fast on my feet. How about you can’t take someone to see the Hope Diamond and expect him not to look.”
“Again, you’re comparing my butt to something that is extraordinarily big.”
He chuckled. “I can’t think of anything amazingly beautiful, but appropriately trim, firm and tiny.”
She tipped her head to one side, considering that. She, of course, didn’t think that he’d been insulting her and she couldn’t think of any other way to make him squirm so she shrugged. “Forgiven.”
She starte
d to step into the tub and he immediately moved forward and took her good hand. Once she was standing in the warm water swirling at the bottom of the tub, he shook the plastic bag and held it out to her. She stuck her hand inside and he smoothed it over her cast, sliding a rubber band over it to hold it tight. It wasn’t going to be completely waterproof, but it would keep drops from kicking up onto the plaster. She would still, obviously, have to keep her hand up out of the water.
“Now what?” he asked.
Thankfully, she had a sprayer that could be taken down from the wall and held. “I’ll sit and then you’ll have to use that to wet my hair.”
“Sounds good.” For a guy who had been claiming to not know what to do with washing a woman’s hair, he certainly sounded confident.
He held onto her as she lowered herself carefully to the bottom of the tub. Then he knelt beside the tub on the fluffy lavender mat. He pulled up on the lever on the faucet that turned the shower on and she held her right hand up in the air.
“Here, rest your hand on my shoulder.” He moved so that she could rest her cast on his left shoulder, somehow leaning around to use his right hand to maneuver the sprayer head.
Warm water hit her scalp and coursed over her shoulders and she closed her eyes and tipped her head back at the feel of it, resisting the urge to sigh.
She felt Sam shift the sprayer to his left hand as his elbow rested on the edge of the tub, the spray angled at her feet for the moment. The gentle pressure of his right hand settled on her head, smoothing her hair back, his fingers curling gently into her scalp, massaging and wetting all the strands.
She did sigh then.
He was leaning in so close that she could smell that wonderful smell from him, and she kept her eyes closed, just absorbing the feel of him touching her, his scent and body heat around her.
“You’d better hold this.” He moved the handle of the sprayer to her left hand and shifted away.
She opened her eyes and saw him reaching for the shampoo bottle on the ledge. His eyes met hers as he poured some of the shampoo into his hand, then rubbed his hands together in small circles.
“Step two,” he said with a smile.
“So far, so good.”
He lifted his hands to her head and started a slow massage again, working the soap through her hair. She closed her eyes again. She didn’t know if he meant for the shampooing to be sensual, but it certainly was. Of course, this was Sam and it seemed that even the most innocent touch made her want him.
Her long hair was piled on top of her head and his fingers kneaded from her temples to the crown of her head, then down the back, to the base of her skull.
After a few delicious minutes, he reclaimed the sprayer and aimed it at her head, rinsing the bubbles off.
“Now?” he asked.
She thought his voice sounded hoarse, but when she looked at him he was simply watching her.
“Conditioner.” She pointed to the other bottle on the same shelf where he’d found the shampoo.
He repeated the pattern without another word, including the rinsing.
She opened her eyes again as she realized the rinsing was more than complete. “Could you…” she started, then stopped, hoping he’d let it go and knowing he wouldn’t at the same time.
“Yes, I could.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”
“Doesn’t matter. Whatever you need.” He was suddenly so sincere.
Which made her ask hesitantly, “Could you help me wash my face too? While I’m already here and wet.”
At that Sam pulled in a quick, sharp breath, but he nodded. “Sure.”
She pointed to the bottle of foaming facial cleanser and he pumped a small amount into his palm and then spread it out with the pads of the fingers on the other hand. He lifted his hands to her face and gently began making circles on her cheeks.
“Here, I can…” she started.
He bumped her un-casted hand out of the way. “I’ve got it.”
It was strange being bathed for the first time in twenty years. Not terrible, but strange.
Sam’s fingers circled over her face, spreading cleanser over her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, over her cheeks and along her jaw and chin. He washed her face nearly two minutes longer than she ever had and Danika found it stupidly erotic. She figured Sam was just thinking what a pain in the ass this was all going to be after a few days.
Once the cleanser had been washed off, Danika realized she didn’t have any reason to linger in the tub. Other than that she just wanted to, at least.
“What about the rest?” Sam asked.
“The rest of what?”
“Your body. You have to bathe everything at some point.”
Of course she would. But…
“Are you offering to help?”
“Absolutely.” He grinned.
“If we do that,” she said directly, and out loud, “it will lead to much more than simple washing.”
“You seem pretty sure of that.”
“Completely.”
Brand New Me
Meg Benjamin
If any man wants more than a dance with her, they’ll have to get past him…
Konigsburg, Texas, Book 5
Deirdre Brandenburg has an MBA and a dream to become the coffee supplier for Konigsburg’s growing restaurant industry. What she doesn’t have is money, courtesy of her billionaire father’s scheme to make her come home. All she needs is three months until her trust fund kicks in. Until then, she needs a job.
Hiring the new girl next door is a no-brainer for ex-gambler Tom Ames. He’s already succeeded in making his bar, The Faro, a growing tourist draw. Deirdre’s beauty will pull in the locals—particularly every red-blooded male in the Hill Country. As he watches her transform from tentative business wonk to confident, sassy barmaid, he realizes he wants first crack at her heart.
When Big John Brandenburg sends Deirdre’s ex-boyfriend to drag her home, the plan backfires, leaving Tom’s bar in shambles and Deirdre kidnapped by a band of loony Texas secessionists.
Things are looking pretty bleak—except the good people of Konigsburg have no intention of giving Deirdre up, either. Even if it takes every Faro employee, every last Toleffson, and one cranky iguana to give the honky-tonk lovebirds a chance at forever.
Warning: Contains dirty dancing, hot summer sex, a honky-tonk makeover, and one nippy iguana.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
Brand New Me
Copyright © 2010 by Meg Benjamin
ISBN: 978-1-60928-307-0
Edited by Lindsey Faber
Cover by Natalie Winters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: December 2010
www.samhainpublishing.com
Table of Contents
Cover
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter
Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
About the Author
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