by Jess Dee
And he’d done a stand-up job of it. Sarah hadn’t thought about Sebastian since.
This time her heart raced like a runaway train because she was just damn nervous. She had absolutely no idea where she stood with Charlie.
For two weeks they’d been almost joined at the hips. Spent almost every minute from sundown to sunup together.
Then Charlie just stopped visiting, stopped inviting her over. After their talk about the imaginary fire, he hadn’t even insisted she stay the night. If anything, he’d been all too quick to help her dress and see her to the door.
She hadn’t seen him since. Not even for a booty call. She’d glimpsed him from afar, but that was it.
And damn it, she missed him. Ached for him. But insecurity and uncertainty had prevented her from contacting him. For eighteen months they’d had an easy sexual relationship. Satisfied each other physically whenever the need arose then went home.
For two weeks they’d had more. Much more.
And now…nothing.
Sarah had never been unsure about her and Charlie’s relationship. Never feared knocking on his door before. But tonight, well, damn it, her palms were all sweaty and her breath kept jamming in her chest.
It was time to talk about what was going on between them. Time to question what those two weeks had been all about. Because Sarah had liked them. Really, really liked them. Now that she’d had a taste of life with Charlie, she didn’t want to go back to the every-now-and-again booty call.
But when he opened the door, his face a neutral mask, Sarah had no idea how to broach the subject. No idea what to say to him. He looked neither excited nor unhappy to see her. He didn’t rip off his clothes the second she stepped inside, but he didn’t tell her he had company either.
It was his complete impartiality that ripped her courage away. The second she sat on his couch—fully clothed—she lost every word she’d planned to use to express her confusion and to tell him how bloody much she missed him. “Char?”
“Yeah?”
Talk to him, Sarah. This is Charlie. You can say anything. Ask him anything. “I’m over the bet. Can we just call it quits?”
Yeah, not what you meant to say, now is it?
He sat on the other couch, wearing as many clothes as she, which flummoxed her. She and Charlie didn’t sit passively on couches. Not if they hadn’t fucked like bunnies yet.
Bewilderment reigned supreme.
“What? No. You can’t be over it. You haven’t met the third guy yet. Sam.”
“I don’t wanna meet the third guy. I just want to stop the bet.” That wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t top on her list of priorities to discuss this evening.
“You have to meet him,” Charlie insisted. “He’s a doctor. A pediatrician. Brilliant guy too. He’s the one, Sar. I can feel it. You’re gonna love him.”
Sarah instinctively disagreed. She didn’t want to love Doctor Sam. Wasn’t interested in loving him. She truly had had enough of Charlie’s matchmaking services. Today’s events at lunch had cemented that decision for her.
Wait a minute. “The one?” She gawked at him. “Now you’re talking long-term prospects? I thought you just wanted to introduce me to a few guys who’d find me attractive and fun to be with.”
“Yeah. That was my intention. At first. But Sam…” Charlie nodded. “I’ve got a good feeling about the two of you. A wedding-bells feeling.”
The hairs on Sarah’s arms stood on end. She’d come to discuss Charlie and Sarah, and Charlie was talking… “Wedding bells?”
“He’s the marrying kind. In it for the long haul.”
Unlike Charlie, who’d shoved marriage to the bottom of his to-do list.
She gulped in a couple mouthfuls of air, trying hard to still the panic fluttering in her chest. Charlie was trying to marry her off…to someone else!
A good bad boy is hard to find…
Getting Hotter
© 2012 Elle Kennedy
An Out of Uniform Story
Seth Masterson has been lusting over Miranda Breslin since the moment he saw her on a Vegas stage. Now that he’s been asked to watch out for her as she opens a dance studio in San Diego, he’s all over it, figuring it’s his chance to get her in his bed. Except the stubborn single mom seems determined to deny their crazy-sizzling sexual chemistry. In typical SEAL fashion, Seth makes it his personal mission to prove her wrong.
Miranda got over her attraction to bad boys about the time one of them knocked her up at the age of eighteen. Seth’s mocking gray eyes and military-buff bod, though, are pure and utter temptation. And when a flooded apartment forces her and her twins to move in with him, she can no longer resist the urge to set off some serious fireworks between the sheets.
But give him her heart? No, thank you. Any involvement with Seth will be strictly physical—and temporary. So when Seth decides permanent is what he wants, Miranda must steel her defenses before she does something incredibly foolish…like fall in love.
Warning: This book contains a bad boy SEAL who knows what he wants and will go to any lengths to get it. Expect some graphic language, hot sex, seduction, hot sex, dirty talk, hot sex, a little man-on-man action, hot sex. Oh, and hot sex.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Getting Hotter:
He walked over to the simple wooden dresser under his window and grabbed a pair of black track pants from the bottom drawer, along with thick wool socks. “The pants will be baggy, but there’s a drawstring so at least they won’t fall off.” He paused. “You want some boxers too?”
Her cheeks took on a pinkish hue. “No, it’s okay. Just the pants will do.”
His groin tightened as he wondered whether she planned on going commando. From there, the most mouthwatering image flashed in his mind, one involving Miranda’s bare sex, his track pants, and a whole lotta friction.
“What’s wrong?”
He met her concerned eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“You got this look on your face, like you were in pain. Are you all right?”
A choked laugh slipped out. “I’m fine.”
“What’s so funny?” Suspicion colored her tone.
“You’re completely oblivious to the effect you have on me, aren’t you?”
She let out a startled breath. “What?”
Releasing a breath of his own, he eliminated the distance between them, lifting one arm over Miranda’s shoulder so he could close the bedroom door. Her eyes widened at his nearness, and her cheeks turned redder.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Giving us some privacy.”
Her slender throat dipped as she swallowed. “We don’t need privacy. I wouldn’t mind some, though, so I can change out of these damp clothes.”
“That can wait a few minutes.” He locked his gaze with hers. “You asked if I was in pain. Well, I am.”
She blinked in surprise. “But you just said—”
Before she could finish, he grabbed her hand and placed it directly over the bulge in his sweatpants.
Miranda gasped, her mouth falling open. “What are you…oh my God. Jesus, Seth!”
And yet for all the lady’s protests, she didn’t make a single move to yank her hand away.
Seth’s pulse kicked up a notch, his cock growing even harder beneath Miranda’s palm. She didn’t stroke him. Didn’t cup or caress or move her fingers in the slightest. She just kept her hand over the erection straining against his sweats, her lips parted, her pupils dilated.
“Feel that?” he murmured.
Her gaze slowly met his. She looked almost mesmerized as she nodded.
“That’s what I’ve been walking around with since the moment you moved to town, baby.”
“Seth…” Reluctance crept into her voice. “Stop. Just…stop.”
And then her palm moved. A fraction of an inch. A torturous glide over the hard ridge of his cock.
He groaned softly. “Do that again.”
Her fingers froze. Her expression
conveyed shock, as if she truly hadn’t realized what she was doing.
“This is insane,” she mumbled, and then, to his extreme disappointment, she withdrew her hand.
But the sexual awareness zipping back and forth between them refused to dissipate. It thickened the air and made his skin burn with anticipation. Christ, he wanted this woman so badly he couldn’t think straight anymore. Every time he saw her he turned into a sex-crazed caveman whose sole purpose in life was to claim his female.
His gaze focused on her mouth, that sexy mouth he’d been fantasizing about for so long.
“One taste.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, his voice full of gravel.
“W-what?” she stammered.
“Let me have one taste. One kiss.” He brought his hand to her mouth and swept his thumb over her plump bottom lip. The breath she hissed out warmed his fingers. “Please, Miranda.”
Oh Christ, he was actually begging.
Begging to kiss a woman.
If his entire body wasn’t overcome with pure agony, he might have been disgusted with himself, but at the moment, he couldn’t focus on anything other than Miranda. The intoxicating scent of her, vanilla and roses and something soft and feminine. The way her long, damp hair curled at the ends. The fullness of her breasts beneath her T-shirt.
He stroked her lower lip again, then let out another groan when her tongue came out to taste the pad of his thumb. She looked as surprised as he was by her actions.
But he wasn’t complaining. Hell no. He just capitalized on that tiny sign of surrender by cupping her chin and lowering his head to take possession of her mouth.
The kiss rivaled the storm that raged outside the house—powerful and all-consuming. Her lips were soft, warm, and he could feel them trembling as he rubbed his mouth over hers in a fleeting caress. There it was, his one taste, and it wasn’t enough, not by a long shot. Miranda must have agreed, because she didn’t pull away, didn’t protest when he coaxed her lips open with his tongue and licked his way inside.
She let out the sexiest little moan he’d ever heard when their tongues met. He swallowed the sound and angled his head to deepen the kiss, letting their tongues swirl and explore.
The only contact between them was their fused mouths and his hand resting lightly on her jaw. Her arms didn’t come around his neck. His other hand didn’t explore her sweet curves. Their lower bodies didn’t collide.
And yet it was the most erotic kiss of his entire life.
Disappointment slammed into him when Miranda abruptly tore her mouth away. Her hazel eyes shone with arousal and uncertainty, and she was breathing hard, her chest heaving.
“There,” she said. “You got your taste.”
He knew she was trying to sound casual, but her wobbly voice betrayed her.
“And you got yours,” he answered, lifting his eyebrows in challenge. “So let’s hear it.”
To her credit, she met his gaze head-on. “Hear what?”
“Your speech about how you didn’t feel anything, the kiss was no big deal, it doesn’t change your mind about going to bed with me, et cetera, et cetera.”
Miranda sighed. “I’m many things, Seth, but I’m not a liar. I did feel something, and trust me that kiss was a big deal. It was a huge deal, actually.”
She might as well have pulled out a two-by-four and smashed him in the gut, that was how shocked he was by her frank admission. Pure triumph soared through him—only to fizzle out like a wet candle when Miranda kept going.
“But you’re right. It doesn’t change my mind about going to bed with you.” Before he could respond, she spun around and grabbed hold of the doorknob.
“Miranda.”
She went still. “What?” she asked without turning.
“What the hell is it going to take for you to give in to this?” The echo of defeat in his voice surprised him as much as the next question he posed. “What do I have to do to win you over?”
More Than Words
Jess Dee
He’s just seen the one thing that was meant for her eyes only.
More Than, Book 3
Molly Harris never intended to send that letter. It was only meant to be a secret record of her true feelings for her boss, gorgeous pediatrician Sam Shepard. But in the chaos of a crazy day at work, Molly accidentally hits “send” instead of “delete”.
Mortified by her mistake, Molly acts in the only way she can. She submits her notice of resignation. A professional-etiquette line’s been crossed, and there’s no going back.
Sam’s mouth goes dry—then it waters—when he discovers his receptionist has sent him a dirty love letter. Or to be more explicit, a wicked, erotic love letter, neatly outlining her many fantasies involving him.
Now Sam has two choices. Either he can be the ultimate professional and accept Molly’s resignation, or he can acknowledge the depths of his desire and maybe, just maybe, convince her to send him another saucy email…
Warning: Could cause the uncontrollable urge to write—and receive—dirty love letters. But proceed with caution…you’re going to want to act on those letters. Immediately.
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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.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
More Than Words
Copyright © 2013 by Jess Dee
ISBN: 978-1-61921-589-4
Edited by Jennifer Miller
Cover by Angela Waters
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: November 2013
www.samhainpublishing.com
