A hoarse breath squeezed past her clenched teeth.
A sharp yank on one nipple zapped the coil of tension with pain and she toppled over into orgasm, sharp, hard waves of pleasure rippling through her pussy.
She gasped, fighting her lethargy to open her eyes. A man stood by the bed. Tall. Dark. Hungry brown gaze fixed on her.
Pretty. He was familiar yet not.
“Jake?”
“In the flesh, sweetheart.”
Still spasms of pleasure rippled to her womb, the combination of the vibrator and the cream drawing out her release.
“I thought…” She swallowed and tried again. “I thought you—”
“Didn’t want you?” His words throbbed with emotion. “There hasn’t been a day go past without me thinking of you, wanting you in my arms. You kept me going.” While he spoke, he lost his clothes. His shirt came off, his movements awkward and jerky. A snow-white bandage covered one biceps.
“Are you all right?” She removed the vibrator, switching it off at the same time. Her cheeks turned red, now that she could think properly.
“I am now.” He stooped to remove his boots and peeled his jeans and underwear down his legs in one move. His lips came down on hers, cool from the night air, but his first hungry kiss went a long way to shoring up her confidence. “God, I missed you so much.”
She stroked his bare cheek and decided he was right. He was pretty without his beard. Stars, she’d missed him, was so glad to see him, touch him. “You didn’t email me.”
“I couldn’t. The assignment they gave me went to crap. Before I met you our team was ambushed and Greg, one of my team, died before we could get him out. We had the chance to round up those responsible for his death, but it took a lot longer than I expected. My team was caught behind the lines.”
She fingered the edge of his bandage, concern rippling through her. “You’re hurt.”
“A flesh wound. My vest saved me from the worst. We did what we went for, and that’s all that matters.” Satisfaction shone in his face, and he seemed more relaxed—if that was the right word—as if avenging his friend’s death had closed a chapter for him.
He kissed her again, his tongue stroking deep, twining with hers and pushing a spark of desire alight in her. Her hands wrapped around his neck, holding him close, savoring the solidness of his body.
“Do you have to go back?”
“I’m finished. I’m here for good—if you want me.”
“Jake,” she whispered, the one word saying so much more than she could articulate at present.
She heard a car outside and Janaya and Luke talking as they walked inside. The dog barked a lot, and she wondered why it hadn’t barked at Jake’s arrival. The noise ceased, and footsteps sounded in the passage outside her bedroom.
“That your car out there, Jake?” Luke asked through the door.
“It’s me.”
“All right then,” Luke said. “Good night.” His footsteps faded as he walked back to the kitchen.
“Why didn’t the dog bark at you?” Sorrel asked.
“I don’t know. She must’ve recognized me.”
“I never heard you. How did you get in?”
“Luke told me where he puts the spare key.” He brushed a lock of blonde hair off her cheek. “I’m not surprised you didn’t hear me. You were moaning.”
Heat flooded her face again. “I was testing out some Fancy Free products.” She strove for dignity. She missed by a country mile, her voice emerging breathless with a side note of huskiness.
“Can I help?” He shifted a fraction, allowing her to feel the hardness of his erection against her leg.
“Now?”
“Yes,” he rasped.
“Condoms are in the side drawer. Try a little of the Dream Cream. Rub a smidgeon on the head of your cock before you roll on the condom. Not too much.” She slid her finger across the surface of the cream and showed him before applying it to her clitoris.
“This first time might be quick,” he said. “I haven’t touched a woman since I left.”
His words were a gift, his expression serious and without guile.
“I can keep up. The cream will take care of me.”
Jake grabbed a condom and applied some cream under her direction. A shudder racked his large frame, and he swallowed audibly. “Maybe I should have waited to test your product.”
“We have loads of time. This one is for you.” And with her words came the sense of freedom, of flying into a new phase in her life. She realized she’d allowed her fears to multiply into doubt and distrust. He’d come back for her just as he’d promised.
Jake rolled her under him, pushing into her with one seamless thrust.
“Feels way better than the vibrator.”
Jake laughed. “Good to hear. No man likes to think of a machine replacing him. God, I’ve missed you.”
He made love to her, tender touches morphing into urgency and then she was flying apart, Jake’s arms keeping her safe.
“I love you,” he said. “I wanted to tell you before I left, but I worried about things happening too quickly. I want a future with you. Marriage. Children. The whole works.”
“Jake,” she whispered, the weight she’d dragged around on her shoulders for the last months falling away. “Yes. I want that more than anything.”
“If it’s okay with you, we’ll make a home here in Sloan. I’ll get a job with one of the building companies based here, and you can keep working at Fancy Free. Will that work for you?”
“Oh yes. I love you, Jake.” And it was true. They mightn’t have known each other for long but sometimes the heart knows. Jake was strong, but he allowed her to be her own person. “I can’t think of anything better.”
“Okay,” Jake said.
And they didn’t do any more talking for a long, long time.
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Shelley
Excerpt – Secrets Lovers
Friendship Chronicles, book 1
“Your turn, Maggie.” Julia’s eyes sparkled with devilment.
“Already?” Yikes. Maggie Drummond grabbed her margarita off the table and took a fortifying sip. The tart, icy liquid did nothing to quell her jitters.
It was time—Tell a Secret to the gang from work. The Tight Five, they called themselves, the name taken from a rugby term where five players bound in a tight formation to face the opposition team. They were like that. Five friends who worked in close proximity at an accountancy firm and who maintained the friendship away from the job. The good and the bad—they knew each other well.
Julia had spilled the beans about her latest boyfriend on a night much like this over margaritas. A blow-by-blow description of the seduction. The red crotchless panties. The blue pubic hair. Soon their love of gossip grew into a weekly ritual at the Cock and Bull, a “You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine” kind of thing.
The crowded pub rocked with music and erotic promise. Maggie squirmed, avoiding catching the gazes of her three friends. She never had anything worth telling.
Until today.
Fidgeting with her drink, scratching at an imaginary zit, clearing her throat a dozen times wasn’t helping. She was losing her nerve and losing it fast.
“C’mon, Maggie. Tell us your secret,” Julia shouted.
Maggie slouched in her seat as several heads turned her way, giving her the once-over. Why did Julia have to yell? Okay, so the men
sitting at the next table wouldn’t hear her over the pounding throb of guitars, saxophone and the male vocalist headlining in the packed bar. She hoped.
Susan and Christina nodded with enthusiasm, grinning, their attention focused on her. Maggie hated the limelight, always had since a childhood filled with her mother’s antics and histrionics. The big event that had sent her scurrying north to hide in Auckland had helped cement Maggie’s resolution to stay away from the glare of publicity. Sighing, she forced her thoughts from the past and wondered if this was a good idea. It wasn’t too late to stop, yet gut instinct forced her on, telling her she was an adult. Free to make choices and deal with the consequences. She wasn’t her mother, despite her father and stepmother’s harsh words.
The fine tremor of nerves slipping down her arm confirmed her disquiet. The slushy ice in her margarita tinkled against the edges of the glass, jogged by the quiver of her hands. She set her drink on the table and sucked in a deep breath, steeling herself to blurt out her secret. Not a feeble confession, like it usually was. Today she had a real secret.
Get it out.
She opened her mouth and closed it again. She couldn’t. Sure, it was a game they played when there were a few drinks involved—margaritas usually. But this time was different. It was her innermost desire she was about to reveal. The others had taken their turns and giggled like schoolgirls instead of employees of the staid Barker & Johnson, one of Auckland’s premier accounting firms. They’d released their inhibitions—a side effect of Friday night drinks and the promise of a long holiday weekend.
Now the floor belonged to her.
She licked her bottom lip, stress bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Time to produce a secret.
“What are you waiting for, Maggie?” Susan asked in a sing-song voice. “We’ve told you ours.”
“Secret. Secret. Secret.” Christina banged her palms on the edge of the table. Julia and Susan joined in the beat, their eyes gleaming with challenge in the dim light of the booth.
Maggie picked up her margarita and gulped to moisten her dry mouth. “Okay. Okay.”
Placing her glass on a coaster, she glanced around the bar. No doubt about it. People were starting to stare. Time to spill her secret before things turned ugly. After another deep breath, she dropped her gaze to her clasped hands. “I’ve started a website called BigBadAss.com.” She spoke so quickly the words ran together. Once finished, she scanned each of her friends in turn, anxious now for their reactions.
“Big bad ass?” Christina’s watchful eyes held curiosity while her lips curved in an approving smile. She pushed her frameless glasses up her nose with perfectly manicured copper fingernails. “Isn’t that pretty racy for you?”
“What’s the big deal?” Julia scoffed and tossed her head before Maggie could answer. Her blonde hair stirred and settled in sexy curls around her almost bare shoulders. Shoestring straps held her low-cut black top in place. “It’s just a website.”
“Who’s a bad ass?” Susan smirked. “Don’t say Greg has gone and found some balls?”
“Bother, I have a smear.” Christina rifled through her handbag for a tissue to clean her glasses. “Anyway, I want to hear more about this website.”
Questions. Maggie had expected them, but the comments and queries didn’t put her at ease. Her stomach vibrated like one of her younger brother’s toys—over-wound and about to fly apart. She wiped sweaty palms on her sensible navy skirt, swallowed and said, “It’s more of a blog.”
“A blog about what?” Julia asked, rolling her eyes. “Desperados? Bandits? What’s a bad ass?”
Maggie closed her eyes briefly to summon courage. This next part was worse. Her teeth clacked when she closed her mouth. The longer her hesitation, the worse the mental strain would become. Big bad ass, she wasn’t. More like a marshmallow, burnt on the outside with a gooey interior.
“I explore…um…my adventures in spanking,” Maggie said, forcing a smile. “Does anyone want another drink?”
Want to read more? Get Secret Lovers here.
Excerpt – Reunited Lovers
Friendship Chronicles, book 2
“Fuck!” Ryan Callander stared at the paper in his hand, shock ratcheting up the low-grade headache he’d had for the last two hours. Julia wanted a divorce. He concentrated on breathing—in, out, in, out—to stem his escalating panic.
Caleb popped his tousled dark head from a bedroom of the inner city Auckland apartment they’d shared for the past five years. “What is it, man?” He glanced at Ryan and grimaced at the envelope. “Can’t the mail wait until we’ve had some sleep? This jetlag is kicking my butt.”
God, she couldn’t do this to him. It was a misunderstanding. She’d realize once he explained everything. “No, I have to go out.”
Caleb cursed and disappeared. He reappeared with a black T-shirt in his hands and yanked it over his head. “I’m coming with you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Ryan snapped.
“Your memory is still spotty. What kind of friend would let you loose in the big bad city alone?”
Ryan made a scoffing sound. “It’s Auckland. I remembered the location of our apartment. I know how to call a cab.”
“But you didn’t recall where the mystery woman lives—the one you kept muttering about in hospital.”
“I’m going to her now.” He’d recalled more about Julia than he’d let on to Caleb, their manager and the rest of the band. The only thing he couldn’t remember was how to contact her—that and her last name. Caleb had told Ryan he didn’t have a serious woman in New Zealand, not one he cared about. Ryan knew different, but the harder he’d tried to remember the more his head had ached.
“And if your mystery woman is a groupie?” Caleb asked, his expression making his opinion clear. French Letters’ groupies didn’t warrant midnight visits from the band. “Surely it can wait until we’ve at least caught a few hours of sleep. Besides, Seymour will have a hernia if you out yourself to a groupie. You can’t visit one without full makeup or a mask. You know the terms of our contract.”
“You can sleep,” Ryan said. “I’m going out now.” He picked up his wallet and phone, both new since the police never recovered the ones stolen from him while the band had been playing in Europe.
“Wait, damn it.” Frustration shimmered in his friend’s voice, but Ryan didn’t slow. Running thumps echoed down the hall. “Fuck, Ryan. I’m coming with you. Give me a chance to put on my boots.”
Ryan slowed. “I’ll hail a cab. If you’re not outside in five minutes I’m going without you.” A mixture of anxiety and anger pumped through his veins. Julia wasn’t any damn groupie. She’d already seen him without his makeup. His mouth curled to a grin as fragments of memories pushed past the fog in his mind. She’d seen him in a lot less and loved the view.
He checked the street and spied a cab. Hell, luck was with him. It was a sign. He waved, elated when the taxi halted beside him. He spoke to the driver, reading the address off the formal document before jumping into the back of the cab. He glanced back for his friend.
Caleb appeared in the doorway, glimpsed the cab and cursed a blue streak. He increased his pace to a sprint. Breathless, he flung himself into the back seat with Ryan. “I fuckin’ told you to wait.”
“I intended to wait.”
“Didn’t bloody look like it to me. Where are we going anyway?”
“Parnell.”
“Give me more. Who are we going to see?”
“Julia.” Ryan fell silent, waiting to see if Caleb remembered her.
“Wait, Julia? Not that blonde bird we both banged last summer?” Caleb’s smirk was a toothy one. It made Ryan itch to thump him.
“Watch your mouth.” Ryan concentrated on his clenched fists instead of the urge to beat up his friend. Caleb didn’t understand. If he knew, he wouldn’t talk that way. When Caleb opened his mouth to say something else, Ryan cut him off. “Watch what you say about Julia or I’ll tell your mother on you.”
“What are we? Five years old?” Caleb stared at him in astonishment. “You sound like my sister.”
A sharp pain sliced through his head, and he rubbed it with his fingers.
Caleb’s eyes narrowed. “Is your head hurting again?”
“Yeah.” His anxiety made it throb worse than normal. The doctors said his headaches would tail off after a while. He wished he knew when that would be, ’cause it had been months.
“You know I’ll help you as much as I can.”
“Yeah, I know.” He and Caleb had been best friends since they were five. It was weird how he recollected everything about Caleb and growing up together. He even remembered the words to their songs, yet his time with Julia remained blank. Those precious snippets of memories had taken weeks to return to him after the mugging, and even now his mind contained frustrating gaps.
The cab slowed and came to a halt outside a new apartment block. He didn’t recognize it, but he and the rest of the band had been in Europe for almost a year, much longer than they’d originally planned. Now that he was here, nerves slid through him. His heart beat a little faster. He paid the driver, grimacing at the faint tremor in his hand.
Caleb watched the taxi drive off. “Are we going to be here a while?”
“Depends.” Ryan strode to the apartment entrance and checked the directory on the wall. Julia Maxwell. Only her Christian name seemed familiar while the surname could belong to anyone. He pressed on her apartment buzzer, keeping his finger down for long seconds. He waited. When nothing happened, he stabbed the button again.
“She’s either a deep sleeper or she’s not home. Maybe she’s out on a date.”
Ryan’s gut twisted, a sharp pain of protest. “No,” he whispered, appalled at the idea.
Caleb’s dark brows rose. “Just because you’ve given up dating and become a monk, it doesn’t mean the rest of the world should follow your example. What’s so important about Julia?”
Ryan sighed. He pushed the bell one final time, and when nothing happened, turned to his friend, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
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