by Elle Kennedy
“Don’t worry,” Ryan said graciously. “I memorized it.”
She set her jaw. “You had no business reading that.”
“Maybe not, but I did, and now it’s branded into my memory.” He sighed. “It kept me up all night, you know. There I was, tossing and turning, wondering where we should go to take care of number four. A park? Out here in the pool? The back alley of a bar? Damn, the possibilities are endless, Annabelle.”
Number four? What was he—her cheeks burned. Sex in public (preferably a place without security cameras). Oh God. She couldn’t believe he’d actually memorized it. The last time she’d been this embarrassed was back in the third grade, when her frenemy Joan poured water on Annabelle’s crotch and proceeded to tell the entire class she’d peed her pants.
“We are not going anywhere,” she said stiffly. “I, on the other hand, am leaving now.” Her back was ramrod straight as she stomped toward the chair where she’d dropped her towel.
She felt Ryan’s eyes on her as she dried off, and she knew he was ogling her tiny bikini. A sick part of her was even a little flattered, but the embarrassed part overruled it, pushing her to dry off faster and wrap the towel around herself.
“So is that a no?” Ryan asked, cocking his head casually.
“Huh?”
“You won’t let me help you?” he clarified.
She frowned. “Help me do what?”
“Cross out all those dirty items on your dirty list.” He offered a charming smile. “Look, it’s obvious you can’t carry out some of those, uh, activities, alone. I’m just offering my services, babe.”
“Again with the babe?” She huffed out a breath. “I don’t want or need your help. That list was intended for someone else.”
He paused. “You’ve got a boyfriend?”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “No. Well, maybe.”
“Which is it, yes, no or maybe?”
She fought a wave of exasperation. “All of them, okay! I have a boyfriend, a sort of fiancé, but we’re on a break right now. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“A sort of fiancé?” he echoed.
“It’s a long story.” She grabbed her clothes from the chair, then slipped her wet feet into her flip-flops. “You are the pushiest guy I’ve ever met, you know that?”
A thoughtful expression flitted over his face. “I’ve never been called pushy before. Endearing, sure. Charismatic. Drop-dead gorgeous. A real-life Michelangelo’s David. But never pushy.”
A laugh slipped out of her throat before she could stop herself. “A real-life Michelangelo’s David? Wow. You are so full of yourself, I don’t even know what to do with that.”
“You could do me,” he said glibly.
Her thighs quivered. Just a little. Oh, for Pete’s sake. She needed to get away from this guy. He was too freaking tempting, and right now, she needed to avoid temptation. She’d left San Francisco to think about her relationship with Bryce, not jump into a fling with a guy who had major over-confidence issues.
“I won’t even dignify that with an answer,” she said, taking a step toward the lawn. “I’m leaving now.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
She was halfway across the grass when he called, “Annabelle!”
Reluctantly, she turned. “Yeah?”
“If you change your mind, I’m in 2B.”
Taking turns was never their strong suit…
What She Needs
© 2011 Anne Rainey
Cape May, Book 3
Devon Mason and Con Walker are sexy, honorable, loving, and completely devoted. In other words, everything Tory looks for in a relationship. But what’s she supposed to buy her two lovers on V Day? Chocolate? How average is that? Their little love triangle is anything but average!
When Con surprises her with a weekend in Cancun, just the three of them, Tory is all over it—until she realizes Con forgot to include Devon in the package. Now their little love triangle is suffering, thanks to a couple of hard-headed men who both want to be numero uno.
Con was content to let Devon take control at Christmas, but now it’s his turn. A weekend in Cancun seems the perfect place for a romantic getaway—then Devon says he’s planning to surprise Tory with a trip to Aruba, and Con’s possessive instincts kick in. He’d always been happy to share Tory with the guy he cares for like a brother. But the deeper Con falls in love, the harder it is to keep from ripping Tory away from Devon.
Sooner or later something—or someone—is going to give.
Warning: This title contains lots of steamy, explicit sex. Hot, jealous men in need of a strong, intelligent woman. And a warm, loving ménage a trois relationship.
Enjoy the following excerpt for What She Needs:
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Con looked up from his desk to see Devon striding into the room. By the looks of him, he was good and pissed. Damn. Con had known this was coming and he’d dreaded it. “If you’re here to bitch at me, then get to it. I’m busy.”
Devon crossed the room until he stood on the other side of the desk, fists clenched at his sides. “Bitch at you? You upset Tory, Con. You booked Cancun without talking to me. And unless I’m mistaken, you looked ready to land a fist in my face this morning when you came out of the bathroom. So, I repeat, what the hell is wrong?”
Con scrubbed his hands over his face. He was frustrated with Devon and pissed at himself for being a complete ass. The hell of it was, Devon had it right. “I don’t know what to tell you, Dev.”
“Don’t give me the same bullshit you fed Tory this morning. I know you. You were jealous when you saw the two of us together on the bed. What I want to know is, why?”
Con stared back at his friend, his best friend. They’d been through some serious shit together. They’d both grown up on the wrong side of the tracks, but they’d worked their asses off and it’d paid off. They were successful and in love. What could be better? To have Tory all for myself. No, that wasn’t right. What Devon and Con had with Tory was good. It was whole. Wasn’t it?
Shoving that nagging question aside, Con said, “You’re right. I was jealous. I’ll deal with it.”
Devon frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Will you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks as if you’d be as happy as a fucking clam if I were out of the picture.” Devon planted his hands on the desk and leaned close. “I love Tory as much as you. I’m not letting her go.”
For a moment, Con was too shocked to speak. He could count on one hand the amount of times Devon had gotten up in his face about something. Hell, the man was always so friggin’ calm it bordered on annoying. “Christ, relax, will you? I never asked you to do anything. It was just a momentary lapse. I’m over it.”
Devon pushed away from the desk and took two steps backward. “You’re over it, huh? Then you won’t mind if I surprise Tory with a trip to Aruba for Valentine’s Day?”
Every muscle in Con’s body tensed. “What did you say?”
“The three of us in Aruba. I’m thinking of booking the trip today. In fact, maybe you should go ahead and cancel the trip to Cancun. Or go alone. Take your pick.”
Con shot to his feet and moved around the desk, a red haze of anger flooding his brain. “I already told you and Tory this morning. The flight is booked. The room is reserved. We’re going to Cancun.”
“And I told you it wasn’t your call alone to make. Tory isn’t yours. She’s ours. Get that through your thick skull.”
“So, what, now we’re going to make her choose between your trip and mine? That’s juvenile, damn it!”
“All I know is that I’m damn tired of seeing that look on your face when it comes to her.”
Con threw up his hands and shouted, “What look?”
“You want her for yourself. It’s so obvious it’s not even funny.”
Jesus, he really was transparent. “I never said that,” he hedged.
Devon pointed a finger at him. “You
want me away from her,” he ground out. “Admit it, God damn you!”
Fury had Con speaking without thinking. “Fine! I want her for myself! I see you with her and my blood boils. I see her touching you and it makes me want to hit something. Are you happy? Is that what you want to hear?”
Devon shook his head. “No, Con, I’m not happy.”
Con cursed. He’d seen that look on his friend’s face only once before. They’d been nineteen, working dead-end jobs and trying to make ends meet. Con had come home to their shit apartment in a bad mood one night. Hell, he couldn’t even remember what had set it off. He’d taken it out on Devon, though. The final straw had been when Con had punched him in the face. He’d broken Devon’s nose. Devon had looked hurt—and not just physically.
“Look, man, I’m sorry,” Con muttered. “I’ll get my shit together, I promise.”
Devon didn’t look convinced. “You know this can’t work if we’re not both in it one hundred percent, right?”
Con shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling like the biggest jerk in the world. He was wrecking everything. Con Walker, always the screw-up. “I know, I know.”
“So, maybe we should do like we did at Christmas.”
Con stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“We leave the decision to Tory.”
“You really want her to choose between us? That’s not fair to Tory, and you know it.”
Devon shook his head and looked down at the floor. Con found himself holding his breath. When Devon’s gaze came back up to meet his, he could swear his eyes were a little too bright, a little too watery. “I’m not trying to get all sappy here.”
“But?”
“I care about you. Like a brother. That will never change.”
“Same here, Dev.” Con stepped forward, a sense of foreboding skating down his spine. Devon put up a hand in warning, effectively stopping Con in his tracks.
“I know you, Con. You aren’t going to get over this.” Con started to argue, but Devon rode right over him. “You want Tory and you want me gone. I can’t walk away. I can’t give her up—not unless it’s what she wants.”
How had things gone from great to shit so damn fast? This was a new record for him. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“Then we need to figure out a way to make this work. For all of us.”
Con had racked his brain trying to think of some way to get over his growing possessiveness toward Tory—and he’d come up blank. “Got any suggestions? Because I’m fresh out of ideas here.”
Devon quirked a brow. “Actually, I do have a suggestion.”
For the first time in weeks, Con felt a spark of hope. “I’m all ears. Spill.”
“Not yet.”
“What the hell do you mean, not yet?” Con cursed under his breath. “My life is spinning out of control and you want to play twenty questions?”
“I’ll tell you and Tory at the same time. She should be kept in the loop here. We can’t make decisions like this without her.”
“Christ. Just give me a clue here. I’m drowning.”
“No, you can wait and hear my idea when Tory gets home. But, I can tell you that I’m not going to book the trip to Aruba.”
When Devon turned to leave, Con had the sinking feeling he’d lost something. Something he might never get back. “Devon,” Con called out.
Without turning around, Devon asked, “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” Devon mumbled. Without another word, he left.
Con wasn’t sure how long he stood in the middle of the room, staring at the empty doorway. When he heard the front door open and close, it pulled him out of his misery. He crossed the room and sat in the brown leather couch adjacent to the desk. Was he really going to have to choose between the woman he loved and his best friend? No. Devon had figured something out. Whatever it was it would be a solution that would benefit all three of them. Devon was good at fixing things. Con was good at fucking up.
When they’d hatched their little plan to finally make Tory their own, it’d seemed so perfect. They’d both wanted her. Both knew, even then, that they were in love with her. At first it’d been bliss. Making love to her, sharing their nights wrapped around her. Waking up with her nestled between them. Even her snoring made him smile. There had been a few bumps in the road, but nothing big, nothing life-altering.
He wasn’t even sure when the first spark of jealousy had appeared. Not that it mattered, because it was a full-on blaze now. The only question left unanswered: Could he really choose between the love of his life and his best friend?
Loose ends have a way of tripping you up…
Creative License
© 2011 Lynne Roberts
Years ago, a law school graduation weekend in Vegas had been part of Lily MacPherson’s plan. Waking up next to a naked Adonis with a ring on her finger was not. After a quick annulment, she relegated Caleb Anderson to her late-night fantasies—and very short list of mistakes—until his voice on the other end of the phone asks a favor that could shake the foundations of her neat and tidy future.
Caleb is still haunted by Lily’s horrified expression that morning in Vegas. At least it had made it easy to set her free…except they aren’t. The papers were never filed. And when the nosy patroness who could launch his painting career insists on meeting his “wife”, does he confess, or call Lily? He calls Lily.
When she steps off the plane, Caleb’s determination to play tour guide disappears in the San Francisco fog. Lily thought she could keep up the pretense for one weekend, cut the last tie to her past, and move on. But their chemistry still pops and sizzles, finally exploding into passion at Caleb’s studio.
It’s everything they remember…but so is the yawning chasm of differences that, in the end, could once again drive them apart.
Warning: Contains balmy ocean breezes, coffee as seduction, the creative use of melted chocolate, and naughty shower lovin’ that gives new meanings to the term “shower head”.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Creative License:
Lily swallowed. A predatory light had come into Caleb’s green eyes. Her fingers paused on a button. What was she doing? “Caleb, I…” She breathed in as his lips brushed the skin above her collarbone. His breath warmed her flesh. Her legs trembled and she knew without his support, she’d sink to the ground. And isn’t that where she wanted to be? On the floor with Caleb thrusting inside her?
His lips found hers again, possessing, demanding. A surge of heat traveled through her body, leaving an ache of hunger. She made a noise low in her throat as Caleb finished unbuttoning her shirt and dropped it to the floor. They were adults, consenting adults. Hell, they were married adults.
Caleb trailed kisses down her neck to nuzzle behind her ear. Her body sizzled from the contact. Her skin absorbed his caress, his feather light touches driving her to a fever pitch need for more. She leaned against his hard body, the length of his erection unyielding against her hip. She wanted to feel his skin, run her hands along the smooth length of him.
Caleb searched her face as she lowered her zipper and tugged her jeans down her hips. “No strings, no regrets, just me and you?”
He nodded, but something shifted in his eyes before they closed when her hand brushed his erection. In a heartbeat, she was in his arms. He carried her to the couch and laid her on the cushions.
He stared at her body for a moment. “You are so damn beautiful.”
Before she could respond, his lips descended. She opened her mouth, welcoming his tongue, knowing it was only a taste of things to come. Lily reached for his shirt, tugging it over his head, revealing his smooth, golden skin. The nerve-endings in her fingers hyper-charged as she explored hard muscle under the warm, satiny flesh. Wild, he delved deep, stroking her mouth with his tongue and fueling the desire already raging through her body. He kissed down her throat to the lace of her bra, his breath hot and moist against her skin.
With care, he unclaspe
d the bra and released Lily’s breasts. His sharp intake of breath cooled her skin before his mouth descended, licking and kissing around her nipple but not touching it. Arching her back, she urged him to take the hardened nub in his mouth. Caleb smiled against her flesh and flicked her nipple with the tip of his tongue. A surge of moisture further dampened her panties. She threaded her fingers around the back of his head and pulled his hair free of its queue. It spilled around his face and she buried her fingers in its silky strands and guided his mouth back to her breast. Caleb took the nipple in his mouth and suckled. His hands roamed her body, leaving her skin heated and aching for more. The coil of pleasure deep inside her tightened. Lily moaned.
Caleb gently blew on the puckered nipple and shifted to the other one. His hands snaked down her stomach and he ran a finger over her moist panties. “Mmm, this seems rather uncomfortable.” His voice rumbled against her skin.
“Terribly.” The word turned into a gasp as he reached the lacy edge and ran a finger under it, down between her legs.
“Poor baby. Should I take them off for you?” Caleb’s hand disappeared further under the pink lace and his forefinger slipped inside her wet core.
She arched her hips and moaned. “Please.”
His soft gasp tickled her breast and sparked a series of involuntary shudders. She was so close. “Take them off,” Lily demanded.
Caleb kissed slowly down her stomach, lightly dragging his teeth over her hip bones, taking his time as though she weren’t about to explode beneath his touch. When his lips reached lace, he pulled them down her hips. “I live to serve.”