Going Deep Boxed Set (Books 1-4)

by Virna DePaul

  Her eyes widen as she seems to suddenly notice I’m only wearing a towel that can slip at any moment. I can practically feel the trail of heat her gaze leaves as it wanders over me. I subtly flex my pecs, grinning when she zones in on the movement. “That’s right. And you are?”

  She blinks then shakes her head as if to clear it. “I’m Chad Cross’s sister. And you can take this phone and shove it up your ass,” she says just before tossing something at me that hits me in the face—hard.

  Chapter 2

  Hunter

  “What the fuck!” I roar, automatically raising a hand to my left eye, which stings like a motherfucker, while automatically lowering a hand to hold on to my towel. Or maybe it’s a subconscious move to protect my nuts from a different type of sneak attack.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”

  The apology comes immediately, but I barely hear it. Whatever hit me in the face—I’m assuming it’s the phone she so rudely suggested I have intimate acquaintance with—stunned me more than hurt me, but for a few seconds I’m practically frozen in shock. Sure enough, I catch sight of a smart phone at my feet. When I lift my gaze again, Cross’s sister is right in front of me and she looks every bit as shocked as I feel, maybe even more so. Her face is pale, one hand covers her mouth, and she looks like she’s about to cry. Insanely, I feel the urge to comfort her, which I viciously shove away even as I let go of my towel, grab her wrist, kick the phone out of the way, and drag her into my apartment, ignoring the little squeak she lets out when I shove the door closed, spin her around, then pin her against it. Vaguely I’m aware that my towel has dropped, but I don’t care. I’m pissed and want answers.

  Yet I still manage to register how soft and luscious she feels pressed against me.

  With wide eyes, she swallows hard then says, “Let me go!”

  “How about you explain what the fuck that was about and maybe I’ll let you go,” I say between gritted teeth, distracted by the way the pulse in her throat is fluttering. In contrast to the colorful art on her arms, her throat and chest are unmarked, and I have another insane urge—this time to lean down and lick her. To my surprise, when I glance up, I see a flash of desire in her eyes. Dark eyes swimming with fire complimented by her pink highlights, and arm tattoos.

  I like it. Too much.

  “You’re naked,” she chokes out.

  “Yeah, well forgive me for dropping my towel when a strange woman assaults me.”

  “I—I didn’t mean to assault you. I just came to return your phone.”

  “Not my phone.”

  “Fine. The phone you gave my brother.”

  “Didn’t give your brother a phone.”

  She struggles against me. I lean in, giving her more of my body weight, and she gasps.

  “You’re lying!”

  “No, I’m not. And fair warning—you keep rubbing against me like that, and you’re going to get a whole hell-of-a lot more than you bargained for. Or is that what you were hoping for?”

  She turns bright red but manages to stare unflinching into my eyes. “You wish.”

  I shift my knee slightly, pressing the weight of my leg against her thigh. “Gotta say, you picked an unusual way to proposition me but big points for getting my attention.”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” she sneers. “Word on the street is that you are an absolute monster in the sheets, and silly me, I couldn’t resist.”

  “The word on the street is seldom right, but I think just this once, the street might be onto something.” I cock my head and pass a quick look over her. I strengthen my grip around her wrist and dig my knee deeper against her. “So what are you into? Domination? Submission? Humiliation?”

  She blinks and swallows a nervous lump in her throat. There’s something different in her eyes now, something that tugs on my heartstrings.

  Fear.

  “Seriously?” I shake my head in disbelief and let out a groan before staring up at the ceiling then abruptly releasing her. I plant my hands on my hips, noticing the way her gaze drops to my naked dick.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve being scared of me considering what just went down. Then again, you’re obviously a crazy person. The question is whether I should call the police or get you medical attention.”

  But she doesn’t appear to be listening to me.

  Her cheeks blush fire-engine red. Her mouth opens and closes like she’s a fish sucking in air. Her eyes are wide as saucers, her gaze no longer edged with fear but filled with a mixture of awe and hunger. I swear she looks ready to bow down and worship me. Or rather, worship my dick. Seeing it gets me horny as hell, making me swell right in front of her eyes.

  She blushes even harder, which for some reason I find completely adorable.

  And hot.

  Finally, she takes a shaky breath then lets it out slowly, as if she’s really struggling to collect herself. “This hasn’t exactly gone according to plan,” she finally says even as she rubs at her wrist, which is slightly red. I’m hit with a frisson of guilt that turns into a mix of amusement and grim satisfaction when she stares at a point just above my right shoulder, obviously unable to make herself look at my monster cock again. Too bad because it’s desperately craving her attention.

  She licks her lips nervously, and asks, “Can you put on your towel? Please?”

  I want to tell her to go to hell. My eye hurts like a motherfucker and chances are I’m going to have a shiner. But remembering that look of fear, the fact this is Cross’s sister and she might be able to help alleviate the concerns Trish talked about, I finally grab the towel, and wrap it around me. “I’m covered.”

  She looks at me hesitantly, as if she’s not sure I was lying about having covered up, but when she sees I was telling the truth she looks equally relieved and disappointed, which makes me stifle a laugh.

  “Look, I really am sorry...about your eye. I meant to toss you the phone with a little attitude, not ream you with it. Honest. I’m not usually the violent type. You have to believe me.”

  “Lady, I don’t know you.”

  “I’m Dani Cross. I’m Chad’s—”

  “Yeah, I know. You’re Chad Cross’s sister. The one who’s called and spoken to my personal assistant on several occasions.”

  She scowls. “So you admit you’ve ignored my messages asking you to call me back?”

  I lower my hand to my towel, for a brief second seriously tempted to drop it again just to check her attitude, but instead I ask, “Is that why you threw the phone at me?”

  “No. Well, sort of. But not the only reason,” she says, her mouth sulky.

  Jesus. Now I want to bite her plump lips. “Look, Ms. Cross—”

  “Dani,” she interrupted.

  “Ms. Cross, number one, I don’t know you. Number two, you don’t know me. And number three, just because you’re pissed at someone doesn’t give you the right to assault them.”

  She raises her chin. “I didn’t mean to assault you. Not like that, anyway. I just meant to aggressively toss a phone at you.”

  “Besides me not calling you back, what else can you possibly be mad about that would justify you aggressively tossing a phone at me?”

  “Hey, I’m not proud of what I did. But I know the rules prohibiting agents from bribing potential clients, which is what you were clearly trying to do when you gave Chad that fancy phone.”

  I spot the phone where I kicked it. “Pfft. It’s not that expensive. But again, not my phone. I don’t know who gave Chad that phone but it wasn’t me.”

  She frowns. “He said it was an anonymous gift and I assumed... Oh!” She bites her lip as her eyes light with realization. “Maybe it’s another agent and you’ve got some competition.”

  “Some unethical competition. Because as you just noted, agents are prohibited from giving gifts to potential clients. Another reason why Chad should sign with me and not someone else, don’t you think?”

  Her mouth flattens into a thin line. “No I don’t think. I don�
�t think Chad should sign with any agent. He should stay in college, not risk his health and his future by going pro, at least not before he earns a degree.”

  Ah. So that’s what all her phone calls and Chad’s sudden concerns were all about. I study her for a moment, then I run a hand through my hair. She might be a whacko but she is also the sister of one of my potential clients, so I need to get this crazy situation under control. “Look, I have breakfast. It’s cold, but why don’t we sit down, have something to eat, and talk about what’s going on.”

  Her expression suddenly turns to one of outrage. “I’m not eating the breakfast that Amy prepared.”

  “Amy—?” Realization dawns. Amy. The name rings a bell now. The name of the woman who’d so recently warmed my bed.

  “I know I’m going to regret even asking this question, but how the hell do you know Amy? And what does she have to do with your brother and the fact I’m going to make him a star?”

  “She’s just further proof why I don’t trust you. And I told you, Chad can be a star after he finishes college.”

  “With his talent, he doesn’t need a degree.”

  “That’s not for you to decide.”

  “The hell it isn’t. Your brother was born with a gift, and I was born with the gift of giving credence to his gift.”

  “I know how this works,” she scoffs and tosses a flustered hand through the streak of pink highlights in her hair. “You promise him the world, but nothing is ever guaranteed. He could get hurt during training and never actually play.”

  “It’s an obvious risk, yes, but it’s a risk he has to take. Your brother is going to be the greatest quarterback in the League. There is a small window of time open for him. The longer he waits to play, the less successful he’s going to be. Talk about no guarantees in life. He could get hurt walking down the street, lose his scholarship and never have a shot at anything. Right now he has a chance to fulfill his dreams and make a ton of money in the process. Not many people get that chance. He can always finish college later. Don’t you want what’s best for your brother?”

  “Of course I do, you bastard. It’s why I’m here.”

  “You’re not a pleasant person.”

  “Pot meet kettle.”

  “Pot came to kettle’s door and hit him with a phone. But I have to admit, the memory is actually starting to turn me on more than piss me off. Have any more pent up aggression you want to get out? Because I can think of a few things that would be far more pleasurable for both of us.”

  “I’m sorry,” she coos, mocking me. “But since I’m obviously not your type, let’s not waste our time.”

  “You have no idea what my type is.”

  “Amy. Amy is your type. Not a fat chick with pink highlights, piercings, and tattoos.”

  I scowl. “Fat?” I look her up and down, taking in every curve. Sexy yes, but not fat. “You’re not fat.” I shake my head.

  She snorts.

  I narrow my eyes, for some reason, determined to convince her of my sincerity. She’s much shorter than me, so I have to crouch to meet her at eye-level. She’s right about one thing, she’s definitely not my usual type.

  But maybe I could use a new type. I tilt my head slightly.

  “You’re gorgeous. Crazy, yes, but gorgeous and your body rocks.” I can’t help but give her the once over again. “Plus, Amy’s gone. You’re still here, despite trying to do me bodily harm. What does that tell you about my type?”

  She averts her eyes before finally murmuring, “That you’re a sadist.”

  “Maybe if you’re the one holding the crop. What do you say? I’ve got one you can try out.”

  She makes a sound like she’s holding in a scream.

  I’m not going to lie, this banter is incredibly entertaining. There’s something about this girl that just sets me off, in more ways than one.

  “You think you’re funny.” She steps up and points a finger at my chest, which I quickly grab before she can poke me.

  “I didn’t make it this far in life by being a—”

  Violently, she pulls her finger out of my grip. “You have no regard for others, so how the hell am I supposed to trust you with my brother?” She pauses as if she’s waiting for me to say something, to say anything, but for once I’m content to let her spiel her bullshit.

  “I came here on a mission. To get you to talk to me. But running into that poor girl downstairs, who was in hysterics as she stumbled out of the elevator, that enraged me. And that’s why I threw the phone instead of handing it to you. Because I wanted to kick your ass, for that crying girl downstairs and for every other girl you’ve ever been a complete dick to.”

  “Because men have been dicks to you?”

  “Yes! You know the only man who hasn’t been a dick to me? My brother.” She paces away from me. I’m watching her carefully in case she decides to pick up something and fling it at my head, when suddenly her shoulders slump. Looking as if she can barely stand anymore, she sits on my couch and drops her face in her hands. “I just don’t like this,” she groans. “I don’t like the idea of my brother foregoing college for this pro football bullshit. He can get hurt, be paralyzed!”

  I sit beside her and place a hand on her shoulder. “Look, I understand your concerns. But your brother has talent, and this is his shot at making it big. It’s not tomorrow, or in a few years. It is now.”

  “But what if it’s a mistake? What if it ruins his future? Sure football helped him with college, but he’s so much more than just a football player.”

  Every drop of concern for her brother is genuine. This isn’t about her, it’s about someone she loves. I haven’t run across someone so selfless in a long time. I can’t just push away and ignore her concerns. According to Trish, this woman has substantial influence on her brother. The promise of fame and money obviously isn’t swaying her, so I need to do my job and find out what it’s going to take to seal this deal. “Look, you don’t want to eat breakfast, fine. Let’s go get lunch or something, and I’ll explain why I think this is best for your brother.”

  She hesitates, but the fear and animosity that had been radiating from her in spades seems to be dwindling.

  “This could change Chad’s life in the best way,” I press. “This opportunity is huge, and I think you at least owe it to your brother to hear me out.”

  She bites her lip, then finally nods. “Okay, we’ll talk. But lunch has to be within walking distance because I rode my motorcycle.”

  “I don’t know why that surprises me.” Nothing should surprise me when it comes to her. “It’s okay though, I can drive.”

  “Let me guess,” she says with a smirk. “You drive a Porsche?”

  I can’t help but crack a wicked grin. “A Cayman.”

  She smiles tightly. “We’re walking.”

  **Read more Lip Service here! or Get the entire series in one boxed set here.

  Bedding the Wrong Brother

  Brainy Melina Parker has always excelled in two things: research followed by hands-on application.

  Determined to find her inner sex diva, she enlists her childhood friend, Max Dalton, to tutor her after hours.

  Instead, she ends up in the wrong bed and gets a lesson in passion from Max’s twin brother Rhys, a man Melina’s always secretly wanted but never thought she could have.

  This #1 bestselling contemporary romance involves a bed mix-up, hot identical twins, sex lessons, naughty word games, light restraint, a shy sex bomb who's afraid she's boring and a hero determined to prove she's got everything he'll ever need.

  Prologue

  Dalton's Magic Rule #1:

  Never reveal your secrets.

  “Hey, Ladybug.”

  Fourteen-year-old Melina Parker's hand jerked at the sound of Rhys Dalton's voice, causing the lizard in her palm to scamper away. Standing, she frowned to hide the sudden flight of butterflies in her stomach. “Darn it, Rhys. It took me almost an hour to get that one to come to me.”

 
Rhys, who even at sixteen towered over Melina, rolled his eyes. He was an identical twin, and it was hard for Melina to believe there were two gorgeous guys with that same shade of honey-colored hair and light green eyes walking the earth.

  “Your mom said to tell you to stay clean.” The left side of his mouth quirked up, revealing the slightest hint of a dimple. “Guess it's too late for that.”

  Melina glanced down at the dust covering her jeans. Grimacing, she slapped at the dirt and groaned. “She's going to kill me. She's already mad that I wouldn't wear the dress she bought me. You should have seen it, Rhys. It had polka dots. I mean, me in polka dots. Can you imagine?”

  “Oh, come on, it makes sense. Plus, I think you'd be cute in a dress.”

  At the quiet words, Melina's head jerked up. He couldn't have meant—

  No, of course not. He'd been so distant lately. He wasn't even looking at her. Instead, he was staring down at a playing card in his hands, folding it. Nothing strange about that. Like their parents, Rhys and his twin brother, Max, were always fiddling with some kind of magic trick. He was particularly fond of making coins disappear. Sometimes she wished he could make her crush on him disappear just as easily, but first she'd have to admit it to him. That was so never going to happen. She'd seen the types of girls he and Max were attracted to, and plain, chubby tomboys need not apply.

  At least he didn’t call her “Four-eyed Porker Parker” the way some of the boys at school did. In fact, when Rhys had heard Scott Thompson called her that, he’d tracked Scott down and given him a warning. Now whenever Melina got close, Scott couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

  Nudging her glasses in place, she moved closer, trying to see what Rhys was doing. “Um. So, have you heard from Max?”

  His hands paused briefly before continuing. “Just that he doesn't hate football camp nearly as much as he thought he would. Might have something to do with the girl’s camp next door.”