by Lydia Rowan
And then he moved.
Pleasure crashed through her like a tsunami, and after one thrust, she exploded, the air forced from her lungs as she came apart. Through it all, he was there, holding her, kissing her, whispering sweet words of love.
••••
Later, they lay in each other’s arms, fingers entwined, not speaking, content to just be together after everything. In that quiet, a question sprang to mind.
“So,” she said.
“Hmm,” he responded drowsily.
“Why do they call you Demon?”
“It’s just a nickname, Shayla,” he said as he leaned over to kiss her collarbone.
“But it doesn’t fit. I mean, you’re so nice. Not demonic in the least.”
He nipped her collarbone, then kissed it to soothe the sting. “I’m tough, woman. Not nice.”
“Yes, you are tough, but that doesn’t mean that you aren’t also nice. Which you are.”
She giggled at his exasperated glare. Then he leaned over and nuzzled her neck.
“…gave it to myself…”
Caught in the fire he was beginning to stoke with his caresses, she almost missed what he’d said.
Almost.
“Wait,” she pulled back and looked at him, “did you say you gave it to yourself?”
He grinned sheepishly.
“Yeah. I mean, really, I am tough. I just thought I should have a name that reflected as much.”
He was laughing by the time he finished his sentence.
“That totally doesn’t count. You can’t give yourself a nickname.”
“Well I did, and it stuck. So there.”
He traced a finger down her chest, detouring to circle one nipple and then the other, and she squirmed and moaned at his ministrations.
“Satisfied? Because I can think of much more interesting topics of conversation.”
He punctuated the statement with a gentle tweak of her nipple.
“Well, umm,” she said around a moan. “If we’re going to give this thing a go, be an ‘us,’ I think I should know your real name.”
He was quiet for several long moments, and when she looked at him, he smiled again, shyly this time, which was a surprisingly pleasing look for him. He took a deep breath.
“It’s Edwin. Edwin Holtz.”
She looked into his eyes without responding, but her shoulders began to shake, and she couldn’t suppress the peals of laughter that broke through. After a moment, his rich laughter joined hers.
“I’ll stick with Demon,” she said as she leaned over to kiss him.
Thank You!
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed Shayla and Demon’s story. Look for Elah’s Plaything, Lottie and Elah’s story, coming in December 2014.
•If you’d like to know when my next book is available, sign up for my new release e-mail list by clicking here.
•Reviews help other readers find books. I welcome and appreciate all reviews, whether positive, negative, or indifferent.
•Find me at my website or on social media:
lydiarowan.com
facebook.com/LydiaRowanWrites
twitter.com/lrowan_writes
My New Release Newsletter
•Read on for an excerpt of Two Weeks in Geneva: Book One, available now.
Two Weeks in Geneva: Book One Excerpt
Dinner was winding down; she and Alexander were among the last of the remaining patrons and he’d already paid the bill, but she found herself reluctant to leave. The deal was closed, and the reality of the end of this whirlwind was setting in. She’d done it, or at least helped and now, the company had its much-needed infusion of cash, a raft of interesting projects, and she’d proven her worth. And to top it off, she still had a little less than a week to explore. Originally, the idea had excited her, and while she looked forward to the downtime, she was honest enough to admit that it didn’t appeal as much as it had before.
Alexander was the reason, and she couldn’t imagine what she’d find in the city that would compare to him. In a few short days, she’d come to appreciate his intelligence, wit, and unrelenting drive. His intensity had brought out the very best in her, pushed her mind in ways she hadn’t experienced before. And if she was being honest, the close proximity and long hours had only amplified the physical attraction she’d felt since the first day at the airport. The stir of arousal churned low in her belly, and she felt the evidence of it gather between her folds and spill over into her panties.
She sighed, trying to ignore the low thrum in her womb and accept the truth of the matter: her time with him was over, and she needed to be professional about it. He was, without a doubt, the most vital, attractive man she’d ever met but he was a colleague, technically a superior now. She probably wouldn’t see him again; it was best to leave the fantasies in her head and enjoy the rest of her trip.
Alone.
Or maybe not. She hadn’t considered a fling, but it was something to think about. No man would compare to him, but other than that obvious and inescapable fact, why not? She had no idea if her race or stature would appeal to him or anyone else here, but she’d be open, and if a chance presented itself…
She leaned back, excitement about the week renewed. She made a big show of yawning and gathering her belongings. But when she looked over at Alexander, his brown eyes burned with the intensity, different from the intensity that was a part of his business persona. And now it was directed at her, unreadable and inescapable in the small confines of the restaurant. She was certain she was the focus of that intense gaze. She felt exposed, flayed by it, felt like he could see inside her, knew what she’d just been thinking. The moment stretched, him seemingly uninterested in breaking their gazes and her unwilling to.
And then he stood.
After a brief second, she recomposed herself and stood as well, sticking out her hand, having decided she’d say good-bye to him here and avoid the potentially awkward walk back to the hotel.
“It’s been a pleasure, Alexander. I appreciate your help and look forward to our companies having a long, valuable, and mutually beneficial relationship.”
“I’ll walk you to the hotel,” he said, ignoring her proffered hand as he walked past her to say his good-byes to the owner. Hand still stupidly extended, she stood unmoving as he walked out of the restaurant’s doors. Not for the first time, she found herself scrambling after him.
“You have to stop doing that,” she said when she joined him where he stood under the awning. “And it’s not necessary. I can get back fine.”
“Nonsense,” he said as he walked off.
Releasing a chuckle, she followed.
They walked in companionable silence, and it dawned on Quinn that while they’d been together for many hours over a short period of time, she’d only scratched the surface of the man. She knew his determination, fierceness, his unwillingness to accept less than the best, and suspected that his confession regarding his hopes for MI weren’t something he usually shared but also suspected that there was so much more that hadn’t even been hinted at. And, of more pressing concern at the moment, she didn’t even know enough about him to make small talk, which meant she’d be left to her own thoughts. She figured she may as well focus on enjoying the walk.
Night had fallen, and as they stood outside the restaurant, a burst of chilly wind hit her and made her shiver. He looked at her, seemingly noticing for the first time that she’d left her coat at the hotel this morning, certain she wouldn’t need it for the short walk to the building and back. He removed his suit jacket and draped it around her arms, his warmth and scent still lingered in the fabric, enveloping her. Another shiver hit her, and this time, not from the cold. The streets were fairly busy given the late hour, and as they crossed one block to the next, Alexander kept his hand on the small of her back, the touch intimate but not inappropriate, creating a sense of security, protection, and heady arousal. When they reached another intersection, Alexander stopped abruptly and
turned to look at her.
She smiled up at him. “It’s this way, just down the block.”
He stepped closer to her and reached her to cup her cheeks, gently tracing her cheekbones with his thumbs. Then he leaned down and captured her lips, his kiss firm, commanding, but oddly still gentle. At the contact, heat unfurled in her belly and she reached up to rest her hands on his broad shoulders and pressed her body against his, anxious to feel more of his flesh against hers. At her soft sigh, he swept his tongue into her mouth, and the touch was almost her undoing. The warmth, the decadent flavor of him, the rasp of his tongue against hers, sparked the heat inside her into an inferno and sent her blood racing through her body.
And then, suddenly, he pulled back.
Enraptured in the inferno he’d created and reluctant to let the feeling go, it took a moment for her to open her eyes. And when she did, the sight of his own burning with the same fire that heated her blood made her muscles contract at the anticipation of cradling him inside her.
“Stay with me tonight, Quinn,” he said, his voice thick with arousal.
Two Weeks in Geneva: Book One is available now.
Lydia’s Other Works:
Playthings:
Devil’s Plaything
Demon’s Plaything
Two Weeks in Geneva:
Book One
Book Two
Book Three
Beneath the Boss:
Book One
Book Two
Book Three
Omnibus
Stand-alone Short Stories
Feel & Obey
Guardian’s Heart: Omnibus
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are invented by the author or used fictitiously. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
Demon’s Plaything
Copyright © 2014 by Lydia Rowan. All rights reserved.