That wasn’t what she wanted. “Isn’t that what you want? No strings . . . nothing permanent?”
Brady stopped suddenly, and Mac collided with a solid wall of muscle. He reached around her, drawing her closer before she could step back. “That’s the last thing I want, Mac.”
She pushed ineffectively against his chest, frustration seeping into her words. “Really? You gave a very nice speech warning me that you don’t have anything other than mind-blowing sex to offer. Isn’t that what you said? Oh, let me guess—you want to sleep with me again? You know what? Let’s do that, but don’t expect me to forget that you’re just using me. I’m sorry that I can’t be as clinical as you. I really care about you, but you won’t ever have feelings for me beyond the bedroom. I get it, so can we just drop this?”
“Mac.” His lips pursed disapprovingly.
She glanced around the hallway. “If you don’t want all of your friends to hear this, you really should let me go now.”
“I don’t give a damn who hears us. We’re going to talk this out.”
She heard the warning in his voice, but she still wasn’t prepared when he hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and started up the stairs. She hissed and fumed until she got enough air in her lungs to form sounds. “Put me down, you overgrown Ewok. You have so done it now. That sex I suggested? Off the table.”
His big hand slapped her hard on her bottom. She gasped and pummeled his back with her fists. A door opened and closed, and then he shrugged her off his shoulder, reaching out to catch her around the waist before she crashed in a miserable heap at his feet.
Mac glanced around, ascertained they were in her bedroom, and looked at him. “How dare you! You have no claim on me, remember? That means you have no right to touch me or pick me up . . . and if you ever slap my ass again I’ll . . . I’ll make you the sorriest man on earth.”
A cocky grin creased Brady’s face. With deliberate movements, he snaked his hand along her spine and into her hair, wrapped it once around his fist, and pulled her head back. His other hand moved downward, squeezing her bottom and pulling her into direct contact with the hard ridge in his pants. On a feral growl, his mouth came down on hers with restrained menace.
A twinge of anger ripped through her, and her heart pounded in her ears as she braced her arms against him and shoved. His kiss became more fervent and demanding, turning her protests into moans. Sure and strong, his mouth devoured hers until she became his to do with as he pleased. Velvet soft lips coaxed hers open. Her body, seriously lacking willpower, responded in kind, heat and desire making it hard to remember why this was a bad idea. Damn him to hell.
Little by little, she gave in and molded her body with his, leaning into his kiss and letting her arms wrap around him. He released his grip on her hair, moving both hands lower to hold her in place while he rocked his hips forward. His erection pressed into her stomach. She let out a moan, lost in the intensity of raw and primitive emotions.
He scraped his stubbled cheek lightly over hers until his lips hovered by her ear. A deep breath sent a shiver through her. “I’m sorry my selfish words hurt you.” Another deep breath. “I’m in love with you, Mac.”
She drew back and stared, momentarily forgetting to breathe. His eyes sparkled dangerously, desire just beneath the surface. His face, rough and masculine, spoke of honesty, integrity, and peace that she’d never seen there before.
Mac pushed against his arms, and this time he let her go. She took a step back and studied him with helpless fascination, his strength and stature making her feel safe even two feet away.
“Would you please say something?” Brady’s tone was deadly calm, and nervous energy danced in his eyes.
“What about all that other stuff? The violence that you seem sure you can’t control? Will you want me today and tell me it’s over tomorrow? Because I don’t really take rejection very well. Not this time—not from you.”
“We’ve got a lot of talking to do . . . about the nightmare I still wake up in sometimes and the anger that obliterates all my good intentions. You’re the only one who’s ever been able to reach me and keep the darkness from taking over. I think there’s a reason for that. I think we were meant to be together . . . and that’s what I want.” Brady squeezed his hands into fists.
“Last night when Hernandez had you, all of my other demons paled in comparison to the possibility of losing you. I know now that I would never hurt you. There’s no way in hell that could ever happen. You’re the other half of me. The answer to my every need.” He raised his hands in surrender. “I’d understand if you were skeptical, though. Stay with me, and we’ll take things nice and slow until you’re as sure as I am. Or . . . tell me you don’t trust me, and I’ll let you go.”
With difficulty, Mac held back the joy and excitement that were trying to break free. She searched his face for anything other than the earnestness that made the muscle work in his jaw. All she saw was hope and love. Her smile slowly curved her lips.
His answering grin fueled a gleam of triumph in his eyes.
“I’ve always known you wouldn’t hurt me, from the moment you knocked me down and sat on me that first night.” She took a step closer and placed her hand on his arm to convince herself this was really happening. “You’re sure? This is not just short-term?”
His arms slid around her, and he kissed her, gently this time. Then he swept her up, strode to the bed, and dropped her in the middle. Immediately, he flopped beside her, pulling her against him for another lingering kiss.
“Stay with me. Move into my room, or maybe I should move into yours. It’s a little bigger, and currently, it’s the only occupied room on the third floor. Privacy is good for what I have in mind.” His gaze burned with fire and intensity. “My plan is to marry you, sugar. That’s as permanent as it gets. We’ll start looking for a place in town right away.”
“What? Wait a minute. Why do you want to move into town?”
“It’s great here—don’t get me wrong. But there are people everywhere, and everyone knows your business. It’s like living in Mayberry. I want you to be comfortable.” Brady ran his hand up her side, under her top, and teased the underside of her breast.
“Okay, first of all . . . stop making decisions for me. And second . . . are you asking me to marry you?” Brady’s grin made her smile as he pulled her close again.
He captured a lock of hair and forced it behind her ear. “Well, yes, but only if you . . . have strong enough feelings for me.” He wrinkled his nose and made a pitiful face.
She laughed, feeling more settled and comfortable than she had her whole life. “Let’s see. I had some pretty strong feelings when you were carrying me up the stairs . . . and when you slapped me.” Mac narrowed her gaze and poked her finger at his chest. “I owe you for that, mister.”
He massaged the bare skin on her stomach. “I owe you for the overgrown Ewok crack. You might say we’re even.” Leaning forward, he lightly nipped her throat, then licked it until the sting went away. When he looked at her, the question was still in his eyes.
Mac propped on her elbow and lowered her mouth next to his ear. “I love you, Brady.”
Instantly, he flipped her onto her back and sat astride her exactly as he had the first night they met. Mac laughed. “What are you doing?”
“Fulfilling a fantasy that started that night. You were so soft and vulnerable, and I was so damned hard.” He slid his hand beneath her top, pushing the fabric up as he moved. When he came to her bra, he stretched it down and cupped each breast. Then he leaned over, gripping her tightly with his legs, and took first one breast and then the other into his mouth and suckled her.
Mac felt the jolt of need in her center, and she arched her body to bring her throbbing ache into contact with his engorged manhood.
Brady straightened, love shining in his eyes. “Time for you to get out of those clothes, Samantha McCallister.” In one motion, he lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it
to the right. Her bra flew to the left.
Mac laughed and pulled him close as he landed beside her again, one hand jerking open the button and zipper on her jeans and slipping inside. She bit back a moan when he found her hub and worked his fingers until she was breathing in rhythm with his strokes.
“What do you say, Mac? Marry me?” He bit her lip and kissed her gently.
Mac was close to climax and lucky she could even speak. “Um . . . if you’re . . . if you’re . . . yes!”
Brady took her mouth, pushing his tongue inside, claiming her very essence in the process. When there was nothing left to hold back, he pushed to his knees and worked her jeans off, leaving only her panties.
He outlined the edges of her bikini underwear with a feather-light touch that tickled and sent her into a heightened state of desire. “What do you want, Mac? Tell me.”
She covered his whiskered cheeks with trembling hands. “You, Brady. Only you.”
Are you caught up in Dixie Lee Brown’s thrilling Trust No One series?
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available now from Avon Impulse:
All or Nothing
When I Find You
If You Only Knew
Whatever It Takes
About the Author
DIXIE LEE BROWN lives and writes in Central Oregon, inspired by what she believes is the most gorgeous scenery anywhere. She resides with two dogs and a cat, who make sure she never takes herself too seriously. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, movies, and trips to the beach.
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By Dixie Lee Brown
Tempt the Night
Whatever It Takes
If You Only Knew
When I Find You
All or Nothing
Give in to your impulses . . .
Read on for a sneak peek at seven brand-new
e-book original tales of romance from HarperCollins.
Available now wherever e-books are sold.
VARIOUS STATES OF UNDRESS: GEORGIA
By Laura Simcox
MAKE IT LAST
A BOWLER UNIVERSITY NOVEL
By Megan Erickson
HERO BY NIGHT
BOOK THREE: INDEPENDENCE FALLS
By Sara Jane Stone
MAYHEM
By Jamie Shaw
SINFUL REWARDS 1
A BILLIONAIRES AND BIKERS NOVELLA
By Cynthia Sax
FORBIDDEN
AN UNDER THE SKIN NOVEL
By Charlotte Stein
HER HIGHLAND FLING
A NOVELLA
By Jennifer McQuiston
An Excerpt from
VARIOUS STATES OF UNDRESS: GEORGIA
by Laura Simcox
Laura Simcox concludes her fun, flirty Various States of Undress series with a presidential daughter, a hot baseball player, and a tale of love at the ballgame.
“Uh. Hi.”
Georgia splayed her hand over the front of her wet blouse and stared. The impossibly tanned guy standing just inside the doorway—wearing a tight T-shirt, jeans, and a smile—was as still as a statue. A statue with fathomless, unblinking chocolate brown eyes. She let her gaze drop from his face to his broad chest. “Oh. Hello. I was expecting someone else.”
He didn’t comment, but when she lifted her gaze again, past his wide shoulders and carved chin, she watched his smile turn into a grin, revealing way-too-sexy brackets at the corners of his mouth. He walked down the steps and onto the platform where she stood. He had to be at least 6’3”, and testosterone poured off him like heat waves on the field below. She shouldn’t stare at him, right? Damn. Her gaze flicked from him to the glass wall but moved right back again.
“Scared of heights?” he asked. His voice was a slow, deep Southern drawl. Sexy deep. “Maybe you oughta sit down.”
“No, thanks. I was just . . . looking for something.”
Looking for something? Like what—a tryst with a stranger in the press box? Her face heated, and she clutched the water bottle, the plastic making a snapping sound under her fingers. “So . . . how did you get past my agents?”
He smiled again. “They know who I am.”
“And you are?”
“Brett Knox.”
His name sounded familiar. “Okay. I’m Georgia Fulton. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, putting down her water.
He shook her hand briefly. “You, too. But I just came up here to let you know that I’m declining the interview. Too busy.”
Georgia felt herself nodding in agreement, even as she realized exactly who Brett Knox was. He was the star catcher—and right in front of her, shooting her down before she’d even had a chance to ask. Such a typical jock.
“I’m busy, too, which is why I’d like to set up a time that’s convenient for both of us,” she said, even though she hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. But she couldn’t very well walk into the news station without accomplishing what she’d been tasked with—pinning him down. Georgia was a team player. So was Brett, literally.
“I don’t want to disappoint my boss, and I’m betting you feel the same way about yours,” she continued.
“Sure. I sign autographs, pose for photos, visit Little League teams. Like I said, I’m busy.”
“That’s nice.” She nodded. “I’m flattered that you found the time to come all the way up to the press box and tell me, in person, that you don’t have time for an interview. Thanks.”
He smiled a little. “You’re welcome.” Then he stretched, his broad chest expanding with the movement. He flexed his long fingers, braced a hand high on the post, and grinned at her again. Her heart flipped down into her stomach. Oh, no.
“I get it, you know. I’ve posed for photos and signed autographs, too. I’ve visited hospitals and ribbon cutting ceremonies, and I know it makes people happy. But public appearances can be draining, and it takes time away from work. Right?”
“Right.” He gave her a curious look. “We have that in common, though it’s not exactly the same. I may be semi-famous in Memphis, but I don’t have paparazzi following me around, and I like it that way. You interviewing me would turn into a big hassle.”
“I won’t take much of your time. Just think of me as another reporter.” She ventured a warm, inviting smile, and Brett’s dark eyes widened. “The paparazzi don’t follow me like they do my sisters. I’m the boring one.”
“Really?” He folded his arms across his lean middle, and his gaze traveled slowly over her face.
She felt her heart speed up. “Yes, really.”
“I beg to differ.”
Before she could respond, he gave her another devastating smile and jogged up the steps. It was the best view she’d had all day. When Brett disappeared, she collapsed back against the post. He was right, of course. She wasn’t just another reporter; she was the president’s brainy daughter—who secretly lusted after athletes. And she’d just met a hell of an athlete.
Talk about a hot mess.
An Excerpt from
MAKE IT LAST
A Bowler University Novel
by Megan Erickson
The last installment in Megan Erickson’s daringly sexy Bowler University series finds Cam Ruiz back in his hometown of Paradise, where he comes face-to-face with the only girl he ever loved.
Cam sighed, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders. But if he didn’t help his mom, who would?
He jingled his keys in his pocket and turned to walk toward his truck. It was nice of Max and Lea to visit him on their road trip. College had been some of the best years of his life. Great friends, fun parties, hot girls.
But now it felt like a small blip, like a week vacation instead of three and a half years. And now he was right back where he started.
As he walked by the alley beside the restaurant, something flickered out of the corner of his eye.
He turned and
spotted her legs first. One foot bent at the knee and braced on the brick wall, the other flat on the ground. Her head was bent, a curtain of hair blocking her face. But he knew those legs. He knew those hands. And he knew that hair, a light brown that held just a glint of strawberry in the sun. He knew by the end of August it’d be lighter and redder and she’d laugh about that time she put lemon juice in it. It’d backfired and turned her hair orange.
The light flickered again but it was something weird and artificial, not like the menthols she had smoked. Back when he knew her.
As she lowered her hand down to her side, he caught sight of the small white cylinder. It was an electronic cigarette. She’d quit.
She raised her head then, like she knew someone watched her, and he wanted to keep walking, avoid this awkward moment. Avoid those eyes he didn’t think he’d ever see again and never thought he’d wanted to see again. But now that his eyes locked on her hazel eyes—the ones he knew began as green on the outside of her iris and darkened to brown by the time they met her pupil—he couldn’t look away. His boots wouldn’t move.
The small cigarette fell to the ground with a soft click and she straightened, both her feet on the ground.
And that was when he noticed the wedge shoes. And the black apron. What was she doing here?
“Camilo.”
Other than his mom, she was the only one who used his full name. He’d heard her say it while laughing. He’d her moan it while he was inside her. He’d heard her sigh it with an eye roll when he made a bad joke. But he’d never heard it the way she said it now, with a little bit of fear and anxiety and . . . longing? He took a deep breath to steady his voice. “Tatum.”
He hadn’t spoken her name since that night Trevor called him and told him what she did. The night the future that he’d set out for himself and for her completely changed course.
She’d lost some weight in the four years since he’d last seen her. He’d always loved her curves. She had it all—thighs, ass and tits in abundance. Naked, she was a fucking vision.
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