Piper grinned, her insides brimming with delight. “Must be fate.” She slid her arms around his waist and peered up at him with a devilish smile. “But now that I have you in my clutches, I’m never letting you go.”
“Baby, you can trap me in your clutches any day.” Bending forward, Tate slanted his lips over hers, plunging his tongue past her lips and stealing the very breath from her lungs. Unwinding her hands from his hips, Tate wove their fingers together and brought her knuckles to his lips. “You ready to get laid, Ms. Donovan?”
Piper released a giggle as Tate broke into a jog, pulling her enthusiastically toward the car.
It was a moment of pure joy that she never thought possible. In all of her daydreams, Piper had never imagined that she would end up with this man. This beautiful, sexy man who pissed her off almost as much as he excited her. He was something else, something she never thought she wanted, but knew now she couldn’t live without.
He was her future.
He was her home.
Epilogue
“The final copy just arrived.” Piper strolled into the office and dropped the heavy book in the middle of the desk.
Laying down his pen, Tate sat back in his seat and eyed the glossy black and red cover with his name printed on it. Almost a year of his life—filled with his dreams and forged from good old-fashioned blood, sweat and tears—sat before him. As was always true when he published a novel, it was surreal. But this one was different from all the others. This one was special, because as cliché at it sounded, none of it would have been possible without Piper by his side.
“Congratulations, Mr. Larson,” Piper said, coming around the desk and settling herself in his lap. She wrapped her slender arm around his neck and leaned in to place a kiss to his lips. As always happened when they kissed or touched in any way, passion consumed them, and by the time they pulled away, both of their breathing had turned heavy and erratic.
Tate shifted his straining erection. Dropping his head back against the seat, he stared down at the desk and took a moment to reflect on the journey his life had taken him since Piper entered his life.
Lightly tracing her fingertips over his lips, Piper asked, “What are you thinking?”
Tate smiled and lifted his head, placing his hand on the burgeoning swell of her barely there stomach where their child rested, safe and warm within his mother’s womb. Jesus, how his life had transformed—from playboy to husband and father in less than a year, and he wouldn’t change a thing.
Piper was his everything, the very air he breathed. Without her in his life, he would be nothing. When he looked back, he wasn’t sure how he had lived before her, except to say that he hadn’t.
Some men would have counted him lucky, a successful bachelor with a different woman on his arm and in his bed every night of the week. Now that he had something to compare it to, he knew what an empty existence it truly was.
Having someone to love who loved him back was the most incredible feeling in the world. It made everything else pale in comparison.
In the past, he probably would have taken her head off and told her to mind her own business. Just thinking of what a total asshole he used to be made him want to punch himself in the face. He still didn’t understand what she saw in him, but whatever it was, he was grateful. Piper was an incredible woman, who made him happier than he ever thought possible. She made his life complete, filling in all the gaps he hadn’t known existed. Even now, carrying their child, she was giving him something he could never repay: happiness.
Piper touched his face, bringing his eyes up to rest on hers. “I was just thinking about how much I love you,” he told her sincerely. “Both of you.” Tate rubbed her stomach; looking forward to the day when he could finally meet the little person they had created. It was mind-boggling. To think they had come together and made a whole new person.
Piper placed her hand over his. “We love you, too,” she said, and discretely wiped her misty eyes with the back of her hand. But Tate caught it.
“Are you crying?” he asked incredulously, though he couldn’t keep his smile from forming. His wife cried over anything and everything these days. She blamed the hormones, but he really couldn’t understand why hormones would cause anyone to shed a tear over a diaper commercial. And why did she always cry when a Brittany song came on the radio? She said it was a happy memory, but, whatever. He was baffled.
Piper slapped his hand away. “Be quiet,” she sniffed. “You’re the one getting all sappy.”
Tate laughed, wrapping his arms around her hips and giving her a little squeeze. “And how am I doing that?”
“With all your talk of love and stuff,” she said shyly, dropping her eyes to his chest.
Tate dipped his head to catch her eyes. “Telling you I love you makes you cry?” She nodded, pursing her lips and looking away. Lifting her up, Tate twisted her around to face him and pulled her back down to his lap so she straddled him. Cupping her jaw in his palm, he brought her face up to his and kissed her soundly.
The tiny moan Piper released shot straight between his legs, hardening his cock beneath her. “We can’t have that now, can we,” he said against her lips, pushing his hips up so she could feel his erection. “Feel what you do to me?”
“Yes,” she whispered, bringing her hands up to grip his hair and draw him closer. “Make love to me, Tate. Here. Now. I need you.”
“Right here?” he asked, smiling as he kissed her. “What if someone walks in and sees us? I’m not sure I like the idea of anyone else seeing my woman naked and wanton.”
“Then we should lock the door,” she suggested. She moved to stand up and Tate dug his fingers into her hips, preventing her from going anywhere. She wore a bright, knowing smile as she dropped back into his lap and ground her moist center against him.
Tate grunted. This woman was going to be the death of him. “Where would be the fun in that?”
“You’re a dangerous man, Tate Larson.” She nuzzled his neck, swiping her moist little tongue across his carotid and nipping at his jaw as she made her way back up to his mouth. “Dangerous, and dirty, and sexy, and all mine.”
Tate growled possessively. “You got that right, baby.” Hooking the straps of her dress with his thumbs, he tugged them down her arms until her breasts spilled out. Even now, so early on in her pregnancy, they were fuller and rounder. His mouth watered and he leaned forward to have a taste.
Piper’s head dropped back on her shoulders. “Oh, Tate, that feels so good.”
Tate licked the swells of each breast, nuzzling the lacy bra until he exposed one ripe nipple and sucked it into his mouth. Between her legs, Tate sought out her panties, finding them soaked through with her arousal, and pushed them aside. His fingers slipped past her delicate folds with ease, and Piper bucked against his hand, seeking release.
Tate teased her flesh, massaging her breasts with is mouth while his fingers delved in and out of her slick heat, until every muscle in her body shook. Until he knew she had reached the breaking point.
She whimpered when he pulled his fingers out of her body. “Tate,” she breathed, her words a plea for him to return.
“Shh, I got you, baby.” Tate unzipped his fly and pushed his pants as far down as they would go without him moving her. Grabbing his cock in his hand, he pumped his fist up and down a couple of times until a small bead of pre-cum pooled at the tip.
“I want you inside me,” Piper said, licking her lips as she stared down at the swollen head. “Now, Tate. Put it in me.”
She held her panties to the side and lifted her hips. Tate cursed as she lowered herself down on him. All that heat, all her swollen flesh enveloped him, and it was his undoing. “Fuck, Piper, harder,” he groaned, closing his eyes and focusing on the incredible feeling of being buried deep inside her. Piper rode him, gripping the arms of the chair to give her more leverage. Within minutes, Tate felt her muscles clutch his cock, the spasms of her inner walls setting off his own release.
> He came so hard, his toes curled and light exploded behind his closed lids.
Piper dropped her head to his shoulder, breathing heavily. Tate was completely drained, his brain foggy as sleep beckoned him, but somehow he managed to lift his arms. He held her for a long time, tracing his fingers down her spine, tasting her skin and listening as his heart slowly returned to normal.
His flaccid cock slipped free of her warmth and they shared a chuckle. “I guess that means it’s time to get dressed,” Piper said, easing off of his lap.
“I suppose it does,” Tate agreed regretfully as he shoved himself back inside his pants. Standing, he helped her back into her dress, the process taking twice as long because they kept stopping to kiss and touch one another.
When he pulled away, he ran his hands down her arms, twining their fingers together. “I love you, Piper,” he said, setting her off again. Lifting his hand to her face, Tate used his thumb to smooth away a lone tear.
Piper nuzzled his palm. “I love you, too, Tate. So much.”
“Since the beginning,” he told her, and she knew exactly what he meant.
Piper nodded, her smile warm, her eyes and heart full of memories. “Since that first kiss,” she murmured.
It had taken far too long for them to reach this point, and the road there had been long and arduous, but as Tate stood there, staring into the eyes of the woman he loved, the mother of his child, he realized that every doubt, every heartbreak, had been worth it.
He might not have had a say in who he fell in love with, but in this one thing, he and his heart were in total agreement. He was in love with the woman who stood before him, and that was never going to change.
With her, he was finally home.
*
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About J.C. Valentine
Best selling author J.C. Valentine is the alter-ego of Brandi Salazar, whose enjoyment of tales of romance spurred her to branch out and create her own.
She lives in the Northwest with her husband, their wild children, and far too many pets. As a university student, she studies literature, which goes well with her dream of becoming an editor. Brandi entertains a number of hobbies including reading and photography, but her first love is writing fiction-in all its forms.
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SLOW BURN
by V.J. Chambers
SLOW BURN © V.J. Chambers 2013
Leigh Thorn is hiding out in a backwoods college because her father put her in danger, and if the wrong people find her, she’s dead. She’d rather snort lines than think about that. She’d rather do shots of marshmallow-flavored vodka until she can’t remember.
When Griffin Fawkes arrives with the news that her father’s dead, she isn’t sure if she cares. He wasn’t much of a father anyway. The only silver lining here is that Griffin’s jaw-droppingly gorgeous, and Leigh wants him bad.
Griffin owes his life to Leigh's father. The man begged him to keep his daughter safe. But Griffin didn't expect a cocaine-fueled party girl who barely seems to care about her own safety. It seems like she'd rather destroy herself than anything else.
Even worse, he didn't expect he'd care about her. He knows he's too damaged to ever really be with a woman. The best he can do is to make sure she’s safe from whoever could hurt her. Including herself. Including himself.
Of course, fighting off men with guns is starting to seem easier than keeping his hands off Leigh.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
It will be apparent to anyone familiar with the area that I have created a college near Thomas, West Virginia where there is none. I haven't named this college, but I imagine it to be somewhat similar to Alderson-Broaddus in Philippi, only maybe not so religious.
I have taken a few other liberties as well. I've also probably made mistakes that I haven't noticed, not only about the Thomas-Davis area, but about Morgantown, Grafton, Boston, and Nantucket. Some of these places I know only through a judicious use of Google Maps and internet searches. So, forgive me, please, if I've got it wrong, and try to enjoy the story for the fantasy that it is.
Thank you for reading, and if you ever do find yourself in Thomas, you really must go to The Purple Fiddle. I insist.
CHAPTER ONE
“You turned off my alarm!” I screamed at the half-naked guy in my bed. I was pretty sure I’d known his name last night when we’d stumbled through my apartment door and collapsed back here. I was pretty sure. Hadn’t I called out something while he was pulling off my clothes?
On the other hand, now that I was thinking about it, I didn’t think the sex had actually been that good. I’d had to tell him at least five time to be more gentle, and he hadn’t listened. At all. I’d call him Rough Hands, since I couldn’t think of his name.
He raised his head sleepily from the pillow. Yuck. Had his hair been that greasy last night? Had his nose been that big?
Ugh. Why did I do this to myself?
“It was loud,” he said. “And I’m trying to sleep.”
“I told you last night that I had to get up early, didn’t I?” I was holding the alarm in my hand, still staring at the numbers. It hadn’t sunk in how late I was.
“What’s the big deal? So you blow off class.”
I pushed aside the covers, reached for a night shirt on the floor, and pulled it on. “Not class, you moron. I told you that. I told you it was important.”
He put the pillow over his head. “That thing about having to go drive to a phone to talk to your dad? I thought you were making that up.”
Panic shot through me. “I told you that?” How drunk had I been, anyway? I got out of bed. The minute I was upright, my head started pounding. Okay. That drunk.
“You talked a lot,” he said.
I ripped the pillow away from his head. “Get out.”
He rolled over. “Seriously?” He looked wounded.
“Seriously,” I said. I threw the pillow at his chest and went into the bathroom. I didn’t have time for a shower, but my hair was a complete mess. I popped a toothbrush in my mouth and surveyed my bed head. It was smashed on one side, wavy on the other.
I grimaced. Most girls on earth would be able to pull their hair into a ponytail now, but for some reason, I had the kind of hair that never pulled properly into a ponytail. I’d always have nasty bumps sticking out and my hair would refuse to lie flat. I wasn’t sure why this was, but it was annoying.
I spat out toothpaste and rinsed my mouth. Then I turned on the shower. I’d just stick my head underneath it.
It didn’t really matter how I looked. I wasn’t going to see anyone important or anything. But I couldn’t handle going out into the world looking really bad. I had a modicum of personal pride.
When I returned to my bedroom, a towel wrapped around my now-wet hair, Rough Hands was still lying in my bed.
I put my hands on my hips. “You’re still here.”
He sat up. “I can’t believe you’re kicking me out.”
“Well, believe it,” I said.
He found his boxers on the floor. He pulled them on and came over to me. His hand snaked around my waist. “Hey, didn’t we have fun last night?”
I shoved him off. “Honestly, you weren’t my best lay ever.”
He looked wounded again. “Geez, you’re cold.”
“You need to learn about communication,” I said. “When a girl tells you to be gentle, be gentle for God’s sake.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “You’re really very rude.”
“I was rude last night too,” I said. “We were both too drunk to stop this train wreck from happening. Now get out.”
He clenched his jaw. “Fine. I’m gone, Leigh.” He yanked on his pants, threw on his shirt and stalked out of the room. Was I supposed to be impressed that he remembered my name or something?
I sighed in relief and started going through my closet for something to wear. Pulling out jeans and digging through some clothes on the floor for a t-shirt, I tried to get myself together. I wasn’t going to be that late. If I drove really fast, I’d only be ten minutes late. And even if I missed the phone call, I could check the received-calls log. I’d be able see the number he had this month. I could call him back. I could. It would be okay.
“Um...”
I whirled. Rough Hands was in the doorway to the bedroom. “I thought I told you to get lost,” I said.
“I can’t find my shoes,” he said.
I could not believe that. “I don’t have time to help you look,” I said. “I only get to talk to my dad once a month, and this is the day.”
“Yeah, that’s what you said last night,” said Rough Hands. “And it sounds kind of weird. What’s going on with your dad? Is he a fugitive from the law?”
Augh. I needed to remember not to tell people this stuff. I couldn’t trust anyone. That was what my dad had tried to tell me. “Never mind. Just forget I said anything.”
“He is, isn’t he?”
“Find your damned shoes and get out of my life.”
He shook his head. “You know, if you treat all the guys you take home like this, it’s amazing anyone comes back for more.”
I glared at him. “Comes back? Men are renewable resources. You’re used up. Did you find your shoes yet?”
He tugged them out from under the bed. As he was walking out, I heard him mutter, “Bitch,” under his breath.
Oddly enough, it didn’t even make me angry.
I’d been called worse. And out loud, to my face, not from some West Virginia co-ed with a big nose. I could handle it. The only reason I was here was that my father was trying to sock me away where no one could find me. Thomas, West Virginia was practically the middle of nowhere. He’d stuck me here because he was in some kind of danger. I was too, I guessed.
Red Hot Obsessions: Ten Contemporary Hot Alpha Male Romance Novels Boxed Set Page 69