Loose Ends
Page 8
“Of course I am. I’m a very busy, successful and soon-to-be filthy rich author. I don’t have time for frivolous things like love and romance. I have imaginary nations to conquer, fictional kings to assassinate, and unlikely lovers to matchmake.”
“Which makes me that toy boy you were talking about, and I’m completely fine with that.”
She gave him a pinch on the ass, then moved on to groping his bared arm. “I don’t mean to be weird about it, but ...”
Ben pulled away and narrowed his eyes at her. “You want to do a bit of role playing?”
“Not so much role-playing as research.”
“Right.”
“As you know I introduced a rival for Sym’s affections in the last book--a real one, not all the wenches and whores he keeps getting off with.”
“Stop right there,” he said, his grin wide as he closed his eyes as he pinched between them. He shook with his laughter. “If you’re about to ask me to have a threesome with you and some Amazonian love machine, I’m going to have to raise some objections.”
“Benjamin Croft, I’m shocked that you would think I’d suggest such a thing,” she countered through her laughter. “Almost as shocked as I am that you’d shoot it down.”
“This is where Sym and I have our differences. I would never, ever leave the hot red-head naked and horny to go ogle a woman with muscles bigger than mine--but so help me if we go into your room and find a muscular man dressed in a brunette wig and head to toe in leather, I will have no problem leaving the hot red-head on her own no matter how naked and horny she is.”
Sophie led the way to her room. While he stretched on the bed she ordered some sandwiches, then kicked off her shoes and joined him.
“And this would be the PG-13 portion of our hour of sin, I presume,” he said as she squeezed as close to him as she could.
“I need food before I begin my research. It shouldn’t be more than ten minutes, at which point the NC-17 festivities will commence.” She looked up and down his body and chuckled. “You really do look better than the hot Irishman. You should see the promo materials. He’s got the sneer down. I mean, you just want to hate-fuck him on sight , but he’s too pretty.”
Ben scowled. “Are you saying I’m a better Sym because I’m uglier?”
“Well, you’re not pretty,” she said honestly, her attention on the thick bristle fighting its way back to his cheek. It would be gone by the time he went back to work. “You’re handsome, and you have character.”
He narrowed his eyes. Sophie burst out laughing, then pushed up.
“What do you want me to say? Pretty is looking like you haven’t had a slice of pizza in five years and I could grate parmesan on your abs. You don’t fit into either category, and that’s why I can’t keep my hands off of you. I like this,” she went on, running her hands from his cheek to his chest. “And this ... and this.”
Ben gave her hand a slap. “PG-13, remember?”
“I dare you to try and commit to that,” she teased, slipping her hand under his tunic. “These pants are awfully fitting.”
He indulged her a moment longer, long enough to knock the wind out of her with a slow kiss, then swung away from her. “I don’t want to be on the verge of splitting a seam when room service shows up.”
“Prude,” she fired back, then enjoyed the view of his backside as he headed for the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, it was Sophie who emerged from the bathroom, naked with the taste of chalky mint on her tongue. One hunger sated, she was ready to tackle the other with the naked man in her bed.
“Tsk, tsk, I thought we were role playing,” she said at the sight of him sprawled once more beneath the duvet.
“We still are. I’m the horny and well-endowed lawyer and you’re the cardigan-wearing, repressed writer type.”
“Oooh, I like that.”
“Don’t get too excited. You’ve still got your panel to go to.”
“Or I can be late.” She pulled the duvet aside and made a perch on his thighs. “No one really cares if I’m there anyway.”
“That’s not true, but if it’ll keep you in bed a little longer, I’ll buy it. Come on down here, baby.”
Grateful to be skin to skin with him after three days, Sophie leaned into a kiss that went from a teasing nibble to a feverish cinch in seconds. With his tongue curling around hers, filling her mouth, she was ravenous for him. When he shifted and reached out for the condom on the nightstand, Sophie took both his wrists and pinned him down.
“Why don’t you just lie back and let me do to you what I’ve been wanting to do since I woke up this morning,” she whispered.
“Lucky I showed up, then,” he said with a chuckle as she moved down his torso.
Sophie grinned up at him. “Still worried about those Avengers?”
He sucked in a quick breath as she ran her tongue along the underside of his half-mast cock. “Not anymore.”
“My question is for Sophie.”
Thank God. She’d almost dozed off. The majority of questions on the panel had been directed towards the two main cast members. It had been amusing at first. Sophie’s die-hard fans meant business, asking about specific scenes and how the actors felt about playing them out. Now she just felt bad for the actors. At least the hot Irishman read the first book and could pull out the charm, but the actress was an award-winning artist who wanted to go into the series as a blank canvas and knew little about the world Sophie had established.
Sophie didn’t care either way. She was dopey after her reunion with Ben and her role on the panel was to laugh at the cheeky remarks the hot Irishman made about Sym’s prowess.
Now, her savior stood behind the mic, a woman about Sophie’s age in a peasant shirt with a bag at her shoulder that overflowed with conference bling. She held a worn copy of the second book, Blood Red Vengeance, in one hand.
Sophie smiled. “Go ahead.”
“Can I get the number of the gorgeous guy dressed as Sym I saw you with in the lobby?”
As laughter trickled around the room, Sophie caught fire. It was a good embarrassment, though, like being ten years old and getting paired up with her school crush in gym class. She tried and failed to keep from giggling, and when she leaned back in her chair with a big smile she couldn’t help but look to where Ben sat.
He’d left his costume crumpled on the floor of her room and changed into a blue plaid shirt rolled to the sleeves and jeans. He fared better than she did in keeping a straight face. His mouth curved, but those eyes were loaded with challenge.
“Uh, actually, no,” she managed to get out at last. “That would be ...”
Oh man, you’re going to have to say it in front of all these people ... and you can’t stop smiling, can you?
“That would be my boyfriend, Ben,” she said quickly and watched him shake with laughter. “He flew in today to do some cheerleading.”
“Dressed as Sym?” The hot Irishman probed.
“He’s very supportive,” she fired back, and as Ben flashed his grin she returned it then turned to the hot Irishman. “You’ve got some pretty big britches to fill, my friend.”
About A.M. Hartnett
“I always look forward to what A.M. Hartnett is going to say next. This is the truth. Whether in an email, a blog post, on Twitter, or in one of her erotic stories, I am always curious to see what Hartnett will come up with. She's got me on the edge of my seat (in more ways than one)”
-- Alison Tyler, author Dark Secret Love.
A.M. Hartnett began writing erotica upon receiving what, at the time, she considered very bad advice from a career counselor. Since 2006, her short stories have appeared on the web and in various anthologies, including Kristina Wright's Best Erotic Romance series and Rachel Kramer Bussel's Curvy Girls.
www.amhartnett.com
Also by A.M. Hartnett
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One day a comment on her erotic website makes Carrie go cold: one of her readers, Brendan, has recognised a landmark in the window of one of her pictures. Brendan knows where to find her and has sent a tantalising private message. His invitation to play was so tempting in no time at all, in a variety of settings, their sensual adventures become wild. Her sexual and emotional reawakening reaches peaks she never imagined possible.
But Carrie finds it difficult to treat their relationship as casual. Terrified of heartbreak, she breaks off her affair with Brendan. Her previous relationship left her in tatters and she’s too scared to take such a chance again. Brendan endured a broken marriage so she’s not alone in her confusion and reticence. But can Carrie ever hope to be more than his fantasy girl?
The Deep End (A Carried Away Novel, #1)
“Mr. Taureau, is there anything I can do for you?”
For years, the Taureau-Werner building has been Grace's playground. Hot men in suits have provided her with one sinful diversion after another without ever having to leave the thirteenth floor.
Grace thinks her secret indulgences are safe, until one late night alone in the office, a call comes through from billionaire recluse: Jacques Alain Taureau. And in Taureau's lonely world, Grace meets a prince with no intention of escaping his secretive retreat by the sea.
Holding My Breath (A Carried Away Novel, #2)
“It’s a skill not every man possesses, and it can’t be taught. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”
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As their arrangement becomes a passionate affair, there’s no denying that Molly’s been waiting for him to come into her life for a very long time. She never imagined that a man like Quinn would be the one.
Breaking Through (A Carried Away Novel, #3)
“I'm not your type. I should leave, but if I do that I'll drive myself crazy wondering how good to me you can be.”
Simon Reeve is charming, sly, and a man who can make things happen. But a foray into the dirty world of politics has left him with a tarnished reputation.
Sharing the responsibility for her orphaned nephew with a feckless sister and putting her own ambitions on hold, Miranda is barely keeping her head above water. She's never taken a man home before, but there's something about Simon's haunted eyes and easy smile that's irresistible, and once in bed he opens her up to heart-pounding heights she never imagined she'd experience.
As they grow closer, two people who thought they knew who they were and where they were going learn to see themselves in each other. For Simon, it means becoming the man Miranda needs him to be. For Miranda, it means realizing she's more woman than her crushing little world has allowed her to be.
For more information on A.M. Hartnett’s books and free reads, please visit www.amhartnett.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
About A.M. Hartnett
Also by A.M. Hartnett