by Avery Aster
Carissa put her hands on her hips. “Neither, you jackass. All I’m saying is we sort of exist on two different planes. You read constantly. You know so much worthless crap, it’s mind-boggling.”
He struggled not to laugh. “Worthless crap?”
“I, on the other hand, have only ever read your books. My idea of relaxing is sitting in front of the TV all day watching a Dance Moms marathon.”
Jett pretended to wince. He gave her shit for her love of reality shows all the time.
Carissa ignored him. “You aspire to bigger things while, the truth is, I’m pretty happy in my little bar, listening to a bunch of drunk guys talk about sports and their bodily functions.”
Jett laughed loudly. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Rissa.”
“We have nothing in common.”
When he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, she waved him away.
“Besides sex.” She paused. “And actually, we can’t even confirm that. We haven’t had sex yet. It could totally suck.”
He sobered up, shaking his head. “It’s not gonna suck.”
Carissa crossed her arms, her stubbornness and pride coming out in spades. “You say that like you’re going to confirm it.”
He stepped closer, enjoying how she backed away, her expression leery. With the murder investigation closed, there was nothing else standing in their way. “You’re thinking about this too much.”
She frowned. “At least I’m thinking.”
Lifting his arms, Jett gestured to the beach, the ocean, the beautiful evening surrounding them. “We’re in paradise, Rissa. Everything about this place is magic. So we’re going to let fate decide this for us.
She rolled her eyes, but he could see she was beginning to give up the fight. Regardless of what she said, Carissa clearly wanted him too. He was simply going to have to teach his no-nonsense best friend how to throw caution to the wind.
“You can’t leave something like this up to fate.”
He shrugged easily. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not practical.”
“Love isn’t practical, Rissa. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“So how are we supposed to let fate decide?”
He gave her a wolfish grin. “Easy. You’re going to run. If you make it back to our hotel room without being caught, you’re right. It’s not meant to be. But if I catch you, you’re mine.”
Jett watched her process his words. He’d asked her their first night on the island what her favorite fantasy was. The answer—a single word—had come quickly and without hesitance.
Capture.
She studied his face and he worried for a moment that she’d refuse, that she’d continue to hide behind this roadblock she’d built between them.
Then she looked over her shoulder at the castle. “Fine.”
The word had no more crossed her lips, than she’d taken off in an all-out sprint.
Away from the castle.
Jett waited four, five, six heartbeats, and then he began his pursuit. Carissa was physically fit and no slouch in the running department. She jogged three miles every morning.
He matched her pace and studied their surroundings, not turning on the speed just yet. They were still on the beach and there were too many people around.
He silently rejoiced when she altered course, turning inland toward the tree line. She found a narrow path, then much to his chagrin, increased her pace. She was in better shape than he realized. She’d merely been toying with him.
Jett picked his way along the rough path, struggling not to trip over a branch or lose sight of his quarry. He was impressed with Carissa’s surefooted abilities. She had no intention of making this easy for him.
The only thing that set his mind at ease was the fact she was still heading away from the castle. She was setting fate up for a win.
Several hundred yards from the shore, the trees thinned and a glade appeared. Someone had built a gazebo in the middle of a field of tropical flowers. Vines covered the wooden structure, leaving something that looked like it belonged in the middle of a fairy tale. Carissa slowed, obviously surprised by her find as well. Then she headed straight for it.
Jett slowed his pace when he reached the steps to the gazebo. Carissa was inside, waiting for him. The race was over.
“Caught you.”
She laughed. “Did you? Or did I lure you here, capturing you in a trap of my own?”
Jett crossed the gazebo, tugging her into his arms. “Does it matter?”
She shook her head. “Not at all.”
“Carissa—”
She placed her fingers on his lips. “Shhh. I know you’re a writer, Jett. But sometimes words aren’t necessary.” She reached up on tiptoe, intent on kissing him. Jett met her halfway. He pulled her against him, loving the way her body fit his. The passionate kiss spoke volumes, leaving both of them breathless. Several minutes later, they parted.
There was a pile of plush pillows in the center of the floor. It felt as if someone—maybe fate—had been expecting them. The gazebo was intimate, secluded, romantic.
Jett slowly unbuttoned her blouse, letting his fingers dip beneath as more skin was revealed. Dropping the silky material to the ground, Jett added her bra and his own shirt to the pile.
Carissa ran her hands along his chest reverently. They’d spent the past few days in a mad dash, letting pure driving need overpower the beauty of a slow touch. She leaned closer, drawing her tongue over his nipple, then blowing on the suddenly tight nub.
Jett repeated the same process on her, loving how Carissa held his lips tightly to her chest, the way she threw her head back in utter surrender.
He reached lower, sliding the zipper of her skirt down. When the material cleared her hips, he realized his sexy lover wasn’t wearing any panties. He rewarded her naughty behavior by running his finger along her slit, paying special attention to her clit.
Carissa took a tiny step away. “I need to see you. Touch you. All of you.”
He unfastened his light summer pants, tugging them and his briefs off. For one spellbound moment, they simply looked their fill. Though they’d seen each other in all sorts of states of undress over the past few days, this was the first time they’d both been completely naked and could relax and enjoy it.
Carissa, quite simply, took his breath away.
Again, words fell to the wayside as they moved together at the exact same moment. He kissed her once more as her breasts rubbed against his chest, his cock tickling her stomach.
They both went to their knees on the soft pillows, then Jett pressed her to her back. As he came over her, Carissa opened her legs. Time seemed to stand still when he placed the head of his cock at her opening.
He paused.
“Nothing between us,” she whispered.
He agreed. He was certain she was on birth control, though it didn’t matter to him if she wasn’t. Jett wanted her forever and that included marriage, babies, a family and a home.
He pressed inside, her tight heat a welcome retreat. She felt as wonderful as he’d imagined. More so.
Carissa lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist when he reached the hilt. Neither of them moved as he placed his lips against hers, kissing her, relishing this closeness.
Carissa was the first to falter. She raised her hips, seeking sensation, silently urging him to move. He broke off the kiss with a grin.
“Impatient.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I think you’re forgetting I have a vibrator that I can and will use if you leave me hanging too long.”
He lifted his hips, coming back inside her with a fair amount of force. “You use that damn thing without me ever again and I’ll flip you over my knee and spank your ass.”
She giggled as he thrust in once more. “You really need to work on your threats. That one sucked.”
Jett pounded inside three more times, then forgot what they were talking about. He gave up trying to think abou
t anything. It was impossible. All he could see, all he could feel, was her.
Though he’d intended to make love to her, to give her soft and romantic, Carissa refused. Her nails pierced the skin on his back as she arched.
“Harder! God. Please. Fuck me harder.”
Her words released him and he took her exactly as she requested. Jett realized this hunger would never be assuaged, the fire never stoked. He thrust in until she came roughly, her pussy squeezing his cock so tightly he winced.
Once that wave had passed, he pulled out and flipped her onto her hands and knees. She cried out as his cock entered her again, assaulting her still quivering pussy.
He gripped her hips tightly as together they fought for more power, more speed. Their bodies matched, mated, fit.
His fingers pressed into her skin when he felt her second climax build, then crash. He was helpless to resist giving in to the same. He exploded—physically, emotionally.
Jett fell to his side, gathering Carissa into his arms, his eyes heavy. Eventually they’d need to make their way back to the castle, but Jett wasn’t ready to give up their private paradise just yet.
“I love you,” she whispered.
His heart expanded, swelled with her admission. He could write a million books and he’d never, ever find more perfect words than those. “I love you too, Rissa.”
She snuggled closer. “I was a fool. Do you forgive me?”
He placed a soft kiss on her head. “There’s nothing to forgive. You thought you were protecting us—our friendship, our hearts.”
“Can I ask you for something else?”
“Anything.”
Something in her tone and the twinkle in her eyes warned him to be on guard. “And you’ll give it to me. No questions asked.”
“Um…sure.”
He tried to prepare himself for her request, but the truth was he knew there was nothing he wouldn’t give her. “What do you want, Rissa.”
“I want to read your damn book. The rough draft. I’m not waiting until the damn thing is published.”
He chuckled, then shrugged. “We’ll see.”
She narrowed her eyes and started to light into him. He cut off her complaint with a long, deep kiss.
When they parted, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ll give you everything, Rissa. My love, my friendship, my body, my words. It’s all yours.”
She caressed his face and he was surprised to see tears in her eyes. Before this week, he’d never seen Carissa cry—not at funerals or sad movies or even when the Saints lost the Super Bowl.
“Riss—”
“I don’t have much, but everything I have is yours as well. I love you, Jett Lewis.”
He kissed away the lone tear that slid along her cheek. Then he came over her once more, not even bothering to search for the words to respond. With her, he didn’t need them.
Epilogue
Carissa wiped the counter at the Royal Lunch. Her small bar was packed to the rafters with regulars, Jett’s family and friends, his publisher and his editor. Everyone was in a celebratory mood. His latest book had released and rocketed to number one on the New York Times bestseller list during the first week of sales.
Critics and reviewers were calling it his best book ever, raving over the intensity of the criminal investigation while marveling over a new element. Jett’s detective had found himself a new female partner. It seemed Riley James had fallen head over heels for a straight-shooting, ball-busting, sexy-as-sin bartender. Longtime female fans of his series were delighted to see the diehard hero reveal his romantic side and they swooned over the sexy scenes Carissa had helped her lover research for the story.
Caliph lifted his glass, toasting his baby brother as everyone clinked glasses and drank. Carissa grinned when Jett handed his mother a check for two-hundred dollars, claiming he was paying her back for the loan she’d floated him when he first started writing. Everyone laughed as his brother Justin teasingly remarked that Mama Lewis was letting Jett off easy by not charging him interest.
Carissa walked around the counter to join them. His family had accepted her instantly, Mama Lewis chastising her and Jett for taking so long to see what was clear as day to everyone else.
Jett’s sister Chloe mooched a dollar from him, declaring it was time to fire up the jukebox and start dancing. As the sound of Zac Brown’s Chicken Fried filled the bar, everyone except Justin shifted tables to the walls and started moving to the beat on the tiny makeshift dance floor.
Justin punched Jett’s shoulder. “I’m still waiting for you to give me credit for breaking your writer’s block. Sort of suspected you to dedicate this last book to me, instead of Carissa.”
Jett crossed his arms. “What makes you think you had anything to do with helping me write again?”
Justin gave Carissa a charming wink. “I told you the secret was to get laid.”
Carissa and Jett laughed, neither of them bothering to tell Justin sex had nothing to do with it. Jett had confessed shortly after their return from Eden he believed it was love that had set him free.
Carissa had told him that was the corniest thing she’d ever heard, but deep down inside, she loved the idea.
Jett was just reaching for her hand, intent on dragging her out for a dance, when a man entered the bar. Jett stopped when he spotted the stranger.
“Who is it?” Carissa asked.
Jett didn’t answer her question. Instead he changed direction, the two of them going to greet the man.
“You found something?” Jett asked.
The stranger nodded and handed Jett a file folder. Jett opened it, scanning the single sheet of paper inside.
Carissa snuck a peek and caught sight of a grainy black-and-white photograph of a pretty blonde woman playing the guitar.
“Is that her?” the man asked Jett.
Jett nodded. Carissa thought for a moment her boyfriend had seen a ghost. His mother didn’t miss his shocked expression. She made her way across the room quickly.
“What’s wrong, Jett?” Mama Lewis asked.
Jett handed his mother the photograph. “It’s Dani, Mama. She’s alive and well and in Nashville.”
# # #
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About Mari Carr
Writing a book was number one on Mari Carr’s bucket list. A New York Times and USA TODAY bestseller, Mari’s computer is now jammed full of stories — novels, novellas, short stories and dead-ends.
Mari writes contemporary erotic romance novels. To learn more about her spicy stories, click here.
Other Titles by Mari Carr
Trinity Masters
Elemental Pleasure
Primal Passion
Scorching Desire
Forbidden Legacy
Big Easy
Blank Canvas
Crash Point
Full Position
Rough Draft
# # #
Escape From Reality
Adriana Hunter
When curvy single and struggling romance author Leila Connors receives a mysterious invitation to spend an all-expense paid week on a tropical island, it simply seems too good to be true. Before too long Leila finds herself caught up in a game of irresistible obsession, where truths are exposed, and the dangerously blurred line between fantasy and reality threaten to drive her to the point of no return.
Copyright 2015 Adriana Hunter
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapte
r 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
About The Author
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Chapter One
Leila Connors stepped into the elevator, dropped her bags at her feet, and punched the button for her floor. As the doors slid shut, she closed her eyes, rolling her head from side to side in an attempt to stretch the muscles in her neck. The persistent knot between her shoulders that had been there since she boarded the plane home from Austin resisted any attempt by her to unknot. She breathed out a deep sigh of frustration, looking forward to a nice dinner, a hot bath, and then bed. She winced at a twinge of pain in her neck; scratch dinner. She’d head straight to the bath and then get some much needed sleep.
The Romance Writers Association conference had been an absolute disaster. Leila had signed up for an intensive workshop with, among others, her favorite romance author, Cheryl Bullard, and had submitted the opening of her latest work in progress. But the critique had gone downhill right from the reading of her opening sentence. Everything that could be wrong with her manuscript was, or so it seemed. The critique felt endless and by the time it was over, Leila was limp with embarrassment and exhaustion. She felt completely defeated.
The elevator doors swished open and she sighed again, picking up her bags, exhaustion etching its way up her back. She’d have sworn someone put rocks in her luggage; they seemed to grow heavier with every step she took. But her apartment was just at the end of the hall. And then she could begin the process of forgetting about the horrible trip and get back to her life.
Stumbling down the corridor, she finally made it to her apartment, immediately noticing a small cream-colored envelope tucked beneath the door, its edge peeking out. Oh God, it was probably from the building super or her landlord. Her sigh this time was louder, her mind running through all the possible scenarios, none of them good, which would result in a note being left under her door. Had a tenant in the upstairs apartment forgotten to turn off the water and her apartment had been flooded? Had she, herself, left the water running?
