Just when she’d thought she couldn’t possibly love him any more, something profound had happened and love had grown.
Brian’s phone rattled in the cup holder. “If it’s work, I’m not answering.” He grabbed it, quickly glancing at the display. “It’s Michael.” He pushed the button to accept the call. “Michael, hey. What’s up?” He nodded. “Yeah, of course.” He handed her the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”
Olivia swallowed, hard. Really? We’re walking down memory lane already? Michael had been a sweetheart for helping them out with Brian’s fantasy, but she wasn’t ready to talk about it in broad daylight on the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, Liv. I just want to make sure you’re doing okay after last night.”
“Yep, I’m great.” She smiled at Brian. “Couldn’t be better, thanks.”
“That’s really good to hear. I’m glad.” His voice trailed off and an uncomfortable silence was left in its absence.
“Is there something else on your mind?” Olivia asked.
“Uh, yeah. This might sound silly, but Brian was really talking up that game you bought. You know, the sex game.”
“The Spice Rack?”
“Is that what it’s called? Let me grab a pen.”
She smirked. “Yes, it’s called the Spice Rack.”
“Where do I get one?”
“Lots of places. Lingerie boutiques, sex toy shops, online.”
“And women are into it?”
“Yes. It’s fun and romantic and sexy. Women like all of that.”
“Okay, cool. There’s this woman in my building and I really like her. A lot. I think I’m going to ask her out.”
Olivia blinked several times. This was Michael, the ultimate B.M.O.C. “You’re thinking of asking her out? Since when do you wait to get what you want, especially when it comes to a woman?”
“Hey, there’s an art to this, you know. I don’t want to mess this up.”
“And you think the Spice Rack will help?”
“I get the impression she’s a bit of a handful in the bedroom. I want to have reinforcements if necessary.”
She hesitated to ask what gave Michael this impression about his neighbor, but she wasn’t surprised, considering the subjects he was comfortable bringing up. “You must really like her. Are we thinking she might be girlfriend material?”
“Whoa. One step at a time.” Michael chuckled. “But, yeah she’s amazing. She’s a lot like you. Smart. Talented. Gorgeous.”
Olivia blushed. “Thank you for saying that. She sounds lovely. What’s her name?”
“Sabrina.”
She clamped her hand over her mouth. Sabrina. Of course her name is Sabrina. “That’s a sexy, sexy name.” A titter began to leak out of her and Brian glanced over with a quizzical look. “Brian once had a thing with a woman named Sabrina. Something kinky with a silk blindfold.”
“He told you about this?”
“I had to drag it out of him.” She winked at Brian.
He playfully smacked her on the leg with the back of his hand.
“Hey, thanks, Liv,” Michael said. “I really appreciate this. I had fun last night. You’re wonderful. Unfortunately for me, your husband is pretty amazing too. I hope you two are very happy together for a very long time.”
“Thanks to you too. I hope things work out with Sabrina. Keep us posted.”
Olivia hung up. Her cheeks were tight from smiling.
“Good thing you didn’t tell him I had a thing with Sabrina yesterday morning,” Brian quipped. “He really would’ve wondered what you and I were up to.”
She nodded and tucked her leg under her butt, turning in her seat toward Brian. “That was sweet of him to ask me that stuff. He actually wanted love advice.”
“Sounds like you pointed him in the right direction with the Spice Rack.”
“Yep. I think that’s his plan.”
“It’s not just Michael, darling,” Brian said in a distinctly fit-for-the-bedroom tone. “It’s part of my plan as well.”
About Karen Booth
Karen Booth is a Midwestern girl transplanted in the South, raised on 80s music, Judy Blume, and the films of John Hughes. Her lifelong preoccupation with rock ‘n’ roll led her to spend her twenties working her way from intern to executive in the music industry. Much of her writing revolves around the world of backstage passes and band dynamics. When she isn't creating fictional musicians, she's listening to music with her kids, honing her Southern cooking skills or sweet-talking her astoundingly supportive husband into whipping up a batch of cocktails.
Karen welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Karen Booth
For Keeps
Long-Distance Lovers with Karen Stivali
Love My Way
Print books by Karen Booth
Long-Distance Lovers with Karen Stivali
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
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Love Plus One
ISBN 9781419947315
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Love Plus One Copyright © 2013 Karen Booth
Edited by Jillian Bell
Cover design by Syneca
Cover photography by conrado/shutterstock.com
Electronic book publication September 2013
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Joy Ride
Lily Harlem
A book in the Spice Rack series.
Kimberly is desperate—muffling gasps of pleasure under the covers is just not doing it for her. She loves and desires her husband, but she needs more.
Could the Spice Rack picked up at a girly, wine-infused party be the solution? Anticipation floods her body as she opens the first “task”. What the…? How is “love on the move” going to spice up her sex life? It’s impossible, or so she thinks, because when a sudden sinful idea pops into her he
ad she has to act, much to Nate’s delight.
Until they’re spotted, pulled over, hauled out and cuffed, and not in fluffy pink. They’re in for it, but the glint in Nate’s eye tells Kimberly he’s finally got her exactly where he wants her. It might feel like hell, but before she knows it she’s catapulted to a heavenly place she’s been longing to revisit. As long as they can get away with it.
A Romantica® marital heat erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Joy Ride
Lily Harlem
Chapter One
“Go on, open it.”
“No, you do it.”
“Chicken.” Kimberly took the spice jar from her husband and gave him a poke in the ribs.
“Well, it’s not like it’s going to be used in the dinner, is it?” Nate asked with a shrug.
“It might be. It could be anything. That’s what the girl said at the party. Absolutely anything from mild vanilla to chili hot.”
He laughed. “I suppose it could be something reminiscent of that scene from 9½ Weeks.” He moved behind her and pressed his body to hers. “I’d quite enjoy that actually.”
“Mmm, I love that film.” Kimberly relished the feel of her husband winding his arms around her waist and the soft sound of his warm breaths in her ear. Carefully she peeled off the plastic then flicked the lid. The ticking of the clock above the door to the hallway seemed extra loud echoing around the kitchen, as if time had slowed, heightening her anticipation, cranking up her expectations.
She emptied the single slip of cream-colored card stock onto her palm. It landed with the writing facedown and she stared at it. For a whole week she’d wondered what would be in the medium-to-hot jar. All kinds of wicked images had been floating around her mind, creeping into her dreams and stealing her breath. When she’d been standing in the playground waiting for Sophie, a steamy image of herself handcuffed to the bed and Nate pounding into her with abandon had created a tremble in her belly. She’d had to take a deep breath and ensure her expression was under control before her daughter came running out.
That same delicious pang of longing rumbled between her legs now. God, if she felt turned-on just opening the jar then it had been well worth the money. Sure, it had been a chunk out of the weekly budget, but it had been ages since she and Nate had tried anything new in the bedroom. Something had to be done.
Under the covers, in the dark, muffling their groans of pleasure had been the norm for so long it was hard to imagine anything else. She’d almost forgotten what Nate sounded like when he gave in to his desire, stopped biting his lip and burying his face in the pillow as he climaxed. She remembered he liked to send a lot of unholy praises heavenward, but it had been months since he’d done that and even longer since he’d yelled her name with that divine guttural quality to his voice.
The Spice Rack had come in the nick of time.
“Go on then, turn it over.” Nate squeezed her a little closer and, with a thrill, she felt the hardness of his growing erection against her buttocks. So he’d been thinking of the rack too, since she’d shown it to him a few days ago. She’d been worried he’d complain about the cost or say it was a silly idea. But it seemed he was as into the game as she was.
“We have to do it, whatever it says on here, that’s the deal.”
“That’s the deal.” He pressed a kiss to her temple as Kimberly turned over their task.
Express your love while on the move.
Kimberly stared at it, read and reread it. Her heart sank. It was nothing like what she’d been led to believe it would be and to say she was disappointed was an understatement. What happened to “go and buy some red leather boots, a set of handcuffs and a flogger”? Well, maybe that was going a bit far, but something like “tie down the woman you love and ravage her” would have done. Or even, as Nate had suggested, “feed each other while naked and then lick jam from each other’s private parts” would have sufficed. But this, express your love while on the move. How was that going to be any fun? It was such a vague suggestion.
She sighed and dropped the task to the counter. “Well, that was a waste of money.”
“What do you mean?” Nate spun her in his arms, surprise in his voice.
She looked up at his face. A long day at the factory meant stubble was shadowing his jawline and his eyes looked tired. “I don’t even know what it means, love on the move. It’s so vague.”
A grin pulled at the side of his mouth. “Perhaps it means getting raunchy while you’re on some kind of transportation. A train or a plane maybe.”
Kimberly tutted. “How much money do they think we have? It’s not like we ever fly anywhere so we can’t join the mile high club, can we?”
He laughed, shifting her against his chest. “No, but we’ll come up with something.”
“You really think so?” She was doubtful. It just wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d hoped for something more specific, so they knew exactly what they were supposed to be doing. A task that would guarantee satisfaction. But on the move…?
He smoothed his hands up her back and slotted his fingers into her hair. Touched their lips together. “One of the many things I love most about you is that you always figure it out. Whether it’s where to go on holiday on a budget, what to have for dinner or how to stop Sophie crying about a missing teddy. You, Kimberly, are one in a million, and I’d be lost without you.”
She hugged him close and kissed him, feeling as though her heart would burst right out of her chest with love. Even if they never did anything those stupid spice jars suggested, hearing Nate say those words was worth all the expense. For too long they’d been like ships passing in the night, working hard, never quite catching up with each other properly and now here they were in the kitchen of all places, connecting again.
The heat level in the kiss cranked up. Their teeth touched briefly as Nate sought deeper contact with his tongue. He tasted of mint—he’d just showered and brushed his teeth as he always did after work. And his cologne, slightly woodsy with a hint of cinnamon, swirled around Kimberly. His shoulders felt hot and solid beneath her palms, his cock was butting into her stomach, almost at full hardness now.
“Mommy, Daddy.”
Kimberly snapped away.
Nate turned to the sink, dipped his hands into the water and began clattering dishes.
“Sophie,” Kimberly said, straightening her blouse and skirt and smiling at their five-year-old daughter.
“What were you doing?” Sophie asked, dropping her arms to her sides and staring at first her father and then at Kimberly.
“We were having a little kiss. Mommies and daddies do that sometimes,” Kimberly said, tucking a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail behind her daughter’s ear.
“Oh,” she said. “What, like in Snow White when the prince comes and wakes her up?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Kimberly smiled. “Have you packed to go to Grandma and Gramp’s? They’re expecting you soon.”
“Yes.” Sophie held up three fingers. “I have my nightdress, my toothbrush and Silky Rabbit.”
“Well, that sounds like everything. Why don’t you go and get your shoes and coat?”
“Okay.” Sophie skipped down the hall and began rooting in the box for her weekend sneakers.
“I’ll come with you,” Nate said as he dried his hands on a red gingham towel.
“Are you sure? I know how my dad talks your ear off about the state of the auto industry every time he sees you.”
Nate smiled and pressed down Kimberly’s collar, which she hadn’t noticed had been sticking up. “I like talking to your father, but if it worries you I’ll wait in the car. You can tell them we’re going straight to an early showing at the movies.”
Kimberly frowned and stared at the spice jar. She’d planned a child-free night so they could enjoy carrying out whatever instruction medium-hot had given them. But express your love on the move, that just wasn’t going provide any entertainment.
Or was it? She pulled in a deep breath and nibbled on her bottom lip. Nate said he loved the fact she could always find a solution. But could she work out this one? And would the answer come to her in time? They only had tonight and then it would be at least a week before Sophie could go to her grandparents’ again. Kimberly would surely die of frustration if they didn’t indulge in some down and dirty action—soon.
Mmm, as time was of the essence, perhaps they should open a new one when they came home. Second time lucky. Maybe she should have a secret peek at them until she found one with handcuffs or ropes or something else Nate would have to use to tie her down.
* * * * *
Sophie was deposited at her grandparents’ house, but despite what Nate had originally said, he did go in and talk to his father-in-law. Forty-five minutes into the visit and he seemed as into the conversation as Kimberly’s dad, the future of gas prices and the new hybrid cars on the market being the main topics.
Kimberly’s frustration grew as she watched her mother and Sophie start on an evening of cake-making and listening to Sophie’s favorite fairy tale CD. Kimberly finished her second coffee, washed the cup and looked at Nate, who sat at the kitchen table deep in discussion.
His shoulders were a little hunched and his black turtleneck stretched taut across his back. She could make out the neat triangle shape that his upper torso had always possessed—wide at the top, tapering to a narrow waist. The black sweater, though nice, didn’t really do justice to what she knew lay beneath. His muscles were defined and solid, a by-product of the physicality of his job on the line. His skin was the color of the sky at sunset, a deep bronze—a throwback to his Italian roots, he always said.
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