by Brynley Bush
“I went out with you the first time because Rosie asked me to. I kept seeing you because of what grew between us. Because I fell in love with you.”
“Really?” I stare at him uncomprehendingly, sure I’ve misunderstood. Dreams don’t just come true like this.
He looks straight into my eyes. “I am absolutely, unequivocally, and irrefutably in love with you. You were always so much more than a one-night stand. I don’t want it to be over. I want to be with you here, in New York. I know it will be hard, given you’re famous and all now.” He gives me that sly grin that never fails to set my pulse raising. His smile fades. “Unless of course you don’t want to.”
“Oh, I definitely want to,” I assure him. “Who else is going to remind you you’re not God’s gift to women?” I take his face in my hands. “You’re God’s gift to me. I love you, too.”
With a growl, he slants his mouth over mine and I kiss him back hungrily, our lips and tongues saying what we can’t, defining in a language much deeper than words how much we mean to each other. When we finally pull apart, he whispers, “It about killed me when I found out you’d left without even saying goodbye. Don’t ever do that again. I want you to come to me when you’re hurt or confused or feel bad. I want us to work through it together.”
I hate the raw hurt I see in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I will, I promise.”
“Good. Because if you ever do that again, I’m going to give you a spanking.”
“Oh, really?” I ask saucily. “And what makes you think I’ll let you do that?”
His eyes twinkle with laughter. “Because I did a little of my own research. And number twenty-five is ‘Have Him Turn You Over His Knee and See Where It Goes.”
“Oh, god. You read it?”
He smiles and my heart melts. “Oh yeah, darling. I read all of your work. You’re very good, by the way. But I have to admit, ‘Your Sex Bucket List: Thirty Moves to Make Before You’re Thirty’ is one of my favorites. That was quite a list.” His hands are on my hips, and he leans forward so his lips are near my ear. “But it’s your lucky day, because I’m going to help you check off every damn thing on that list.” He kisses the tender spot behind my ear, his lips soft and warm. “And when we’re finished, we’ll start working on forty sex moves before you’re forty.” He trails little kisses down my jaw. “And then fifty sex moves before fifty…”
“And then?” I ask breathlessly.
“And then, forever.”
Check out the other Hard Men of the Rockies titles by Chick Swagger authors. Here’s a sneak peek at Blake’s story…
Beyond Lace
A Hard Men of the Rockies Novella
by Mia London
Charlie walked into Catwalk, a local bar, with her good friend, Lori. They were best friends since the fourth grade and loved to blow off the stress of the day at the local haunts. The crowd seemed like the usual Fort Collins group for a Friday night.
They scanned the room for an open table, and Charlie’s eyes landed on a man sipping a beer with his back to her. He had a familiar frame, but she couldn’t place it. Was he someone who worked at one of her clients’ companies?
“I don’t see any tables. Do you?” Not waiting for a response, Lori suggested, “Let’s go to the bar and wait for something to open up.”
Charlie nodded, then focused her attention back to the stranger. He sat at the far end of the bar and slanted her direction when he called out to the bartender.
She stumbled for a second.
That looks like Blake. The thought popped into her head with a suddenness of a bottle rocket. She stared. Her heart pounded in her chest, on the verge of exploding.
Lori asked her something, but she couldn’t even hear it. “Hey.”
She glanced at her friend. “What?”
“What do you want to drink?”
“Um. A beer.”
Her attention back on the man, she strained to get a clear view over the horde of people. It was very unlikely Blake. Her imagination was getting the best of her. She watched as he ordered another drink from Larry. His mannerisms seemed like Blake’s.
She turned straight ahead. The blood thundered in her ears.
“Oh shit,” she breathed.
“What is it?” Lori asked.
She faced her friend.
“You alright, sweetie?” Lori asked as she placed a hand on Charlie’s arm. “Your face is sheet-white.”
“Lori, the man at the other end of the bar, third stool.” She motioned with her head. “Doesn’t that look like Blake?”
Lori wrinkled her nose and peered in his direction. After several seconds, her eyes went wide. “Holy shit.”
“Exactly.”
Charlie couldn’t turn his way, but like a wreck on the side of the highway, she had to. She examined his features again. His profile still just as chiseled and defined and masculine. The scruff on his face made his jawline more pronounced. If it was possible, he gotten even more handsome.
As if reading her thoughts, Lori leaned in closer. “He looks even better than he did in college.”
His jawline appeared stronger, his hair darker, and his shoulders broader. When he smiled at something Larry said, she knew. It was him.
Christ almighty. What is he doing here?
His gaze traveled casually down the bar when it met hers. Her heart stopped, and her limbs froze. His mouth gaped. She couldn’t blink, couldn’t think, could hardly do anything but stare. He finally broke away and lifted his beer to drink.
“Here, sweetie,” Lori called from beside her and set her beer on the counter in front of her.
Charlie glanced at the bottle like she didn’t know what to do with it.
“You should go say hi,” Lori spoke in a soft tone.
Charlie glanced his way one last time. She brought the beer bottle to her lips and swallowed a significant mouthful. No sense avoiding him. That would be childish.
She wended her way to the other end of the bar to see him chatting with a guy ordering drinks. She hadn’t seen Blake in eight years. She didn’t know what she would say once she got to him. Her palms went slick.
The breath she took in did nothing to calm her wildly beating heart.
“Hi, Blake,” she said to his back.
In what felt like an eternity, he slowly spun around. “Charlie. What are you doing here?”
What? That was certainly not the greeting she’d been expecting. They may have had a tragic breakup, to put it lightly. But after eight years, shouldn’t their history be just that—history?
About the Author
Brynley Bush has had a lifelong love affair with words. She earned her degree in English and Creative Writing and wrote magazine feature stories for years before turning to writing fiction. She writes the kind of books she likes to read: steamy contemporary romances featuring smart, sassy heroines with a sense of humor and strong, dominant alpha males who love their women a little feisty. She lives in Texas with her family and an assortment of pets. When she's not writing, she loves to read, spend time with her family, and travel.
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