Colors of Love

by Jess Dee

  Kaz shook her head with a smile. Even when he teased her—and he teased her a lot about her ability to read auras—he was utterly charming. “It’s filled with maroon, a color I haven’t seen in you before. And the charcoal grey that used to lie here?” She waved her hand around his head, down over his chest and close to his legs. “It’s all gone.”

  “What does that mean?” It was Seth who asked.

  “It means Luke’s found a new direction in life. One that empowers him. Makes him happy. It means that the dark cloud of gloom that hung over him for so long is gone. It means he’s finally stopped fighting the inevitable and accepted the path his life was meant to take.”

  “Nah,” Seth disagreed. “I think it just means he’s still on a high from the blowjob I gave him in the shower.”

  Kaz laughed out loud. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “I am. Now say goodbye to Lucas, so I can give you something.”

  Kaz stepped into Luke’s arms for the last time, careful not to touch his bruised hands. There was nothing sexual in his embrace, there was just an enormous amount of gratitude and affection, and Kaz hugged him just as tight as he hugged her. “You know,” he said into her ear, “it’s not every day you meet someone who has the power, or the balls, to change your world.”

  “Are you suggesting I have balls, Mr. Struthers?”

  “I know for a fact you don’t. No, I’m saying you changed my world. And for that I will be forever grateful.”

  “Hey, you changed my world too. Without you and Seth, I’d never have found what I was looking for. So believe me, mate, I am just as grateful.”

  “You know if you ever get bored selling colored rocks to strangers you can always come join us on tour? Be with people who love you?”

  “And you know if you ever accidentally step off your new path and lose your way, I can always help you find it again?”

  “I know you can.” He kissed her forehead. “And I’ll hold you to it. If I ever need to.”

  “Just love him, Luke. Love him with everything you have, and I promise you won’t need my help again.”

  “I do, sweet pea. And I will. I’ll love him with everything I have.”

  Luke released her with a smile.

  Bernie packed Kaz’s belongings into the boot of a sleek black Mercedes that idled beside them and held the door open for her.

  She thanked him and climbed inside but stopped Bernie before he could close the door. “You have something to give me?” she asked Seth.

  He nodded and crouched down beside her. “When I was little, my grandmother used to sing me a song. She sang it often, like a lullaby.” He reached into his back pocket and withdrew an envelope. “I never understood it back then. I never understood it as an adult, either. It’s only since you stepped into my life that it finally makes sense.” Seth opened the envelope and took out two sheets of paper. “Would you believe me if I told you the song was about you?”

  Kaz laughed. “No. Your grandmother doesn’t even know me.”

  “That’s what makes this song so amazing. She never met you, and yet she knew all about you.” The way he said it told Kaz his grandmother was no longer alive.

  He handed her a sheet. “Read it.”

  Kaz did.

  To have it all you’ll need to wait

  Until the day that seals your fate

  While dreaming big may be your trait

  Others may not share your faith.

  When all is different then you’ll see

  Just how strong your hearts can be

  Though his love appears empty

  She’ll change it all with colors plenty.

  “Seth?” She looked at him, agog. “Your grandmother wrote this?”

  He nodded. “Prophetic, huh?”

  “Oh, my God. That’s insane.”

  “She was right, sweet pea. You changed my life. And Luke’s. You used your colors to do that.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  “No, it was our pleasure,” Seth corrected. “There’s something else I want you to have.” He handed her the second sheet of paper.

  She glanced down at it. Another song. This one familiar to her. It was the first two verses of the song she’d helped Seth with. “It’s your song. The one you wrote about Luke.”

  “Actually—” Seth grinned, “—it’s your song now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did you see the title?”

  Kaz shook her head.

  “Well, look.”

  She did, and there, on the top of the page, italicized and underlined was the name: “Kaz’s Song”.

  “You’re naming it after me?” she asked, breathless.

  Luke grinned over Seth’s head. “Wait ’til you hear the name of the new album Seth’s working on.”

  “You’re working on a new album?”

  “On the lyrics. And these two songs—” Seth gestured to the sheets, “—are going to be the first two we release. I wanted you to have them. Both of them. Because they belong to you as much as they belong to us.”

  Two songs, handwritten by Seth. Kaz knew exactly what she’d do with the pages. Frame them and hang them on the wall in her new shop. “Thank you, Seth, I’ll treasure them always.”

  Seth stood and closed the door as Bernie climbed into the front, next to the chauffeur. The car started.

  “Wait,” Kaz cried. She lowered the window and looked out at the two men standing on the footpath. “You never told me what you’re calling the album.”

  Seth just grinned at her. It was Luke who answered. “The only thing we could possibly call an album after meeting you, sweet pea. Colors of Love.”

  About the Author

  Apart from her family and friends, Jess Dee loves two things: romance and food. Is it any wonder she specializes in dee-liciously sexy romance? Jess loves hearing from readers. You can email her at jess@jessdee.com or find her at www.jessdee.com.

  Look for these titles by Jess Dee

  Now Available:

  The Tanner Siblings

  Photo Opportunity

  Ask Adam

  Circle of Friends

  Only Tyler

  Steve’s Story

  A Question of…

  A Question of Trust

  A Question of Love

  Fire

  Winter Fire

  Hidden Fire

  Three of a Kind

  Going All In

  Raising the Stakes

  Full House

  Bandicoot Cove Anthology

  Exotic Indulgence

  Island Idyll

  Speed

  See You in My Dreams

  Print Anthologies

  Risking It All

  Three’s Company

  Red Hot Winter

  Coming Soon:

  Bandicoot Cove—The Wedding:

  Afternoon Rhapsody

  Print Anthologies

  Three of a Kind

  Tropical Desires

  Red Hot Weekend

  Bandicoot Cove: The Wedding

  Every girl’s fantasy…one woman’s dream .

  See You in My Dreams

  © 2011 Jess Dee

  Speed, Book 1

  Sophie Butler is sure she’s about to lose her much-needed cleaning job. She’s not only walked in on a guest—a violation of her employer’s cardinal rule—but she can’t seem to tear her gaze away from his gorgeous, naked-as-the-day-he-was-born body.

  If all that isn’t bad enough, her usually sensible judgment and behavior are clouded by a nagging sense of familiarity. She knows the man from somewhere, she just can’t quite place him.

  Nathan Pace is certain he’s just lost his jealously guarded anonymity. But hold on…if she’s just another fan looking for a piece of his alter ego, rock star Jamie Speed, why is she blushing six shades of scarlet? And why is he instantly aroused? When he catches a glimpse of her eyes, he knows. She’s the woman who for ten years has haunted his dreams.

  The
attraction that flares between them is undeniable—and unstoppable. But getting close means risking Nathan’s secret identity. Just this once, he’d like a woman to fall for the real man, not the press’s version of a celebrity superstar.

  Warning: This may be an erotic contemporary romance, but it does contain a hint of fantasy. And when that fantasy involves erotic dreams about a gorgeous rock star, you know you’re gonna want the fantasy to become reality…

  Enjoy the following excerpt for See You in My Dreams:

  Nathan’s legs buckled beneath him. He collapsed into the heated water with a mighty splash.

  It took several minutes for his erratic heartbeat to normalize. He’d gone from zero to a hundred and back in a matter of minutes, and he had not a drop of energy to spare. Sophie had utterly depleted his reserves.

  Heart still pounding, he looked at her through the steam rising between them. She sat opposite him with a smug, satisfied grin. The ends of her wavy blonde hair trailed in the water, and her cheeks had turned pink from the raised water temperature. His initial assessment of her had been spot-on. She was absolutely beautiful.

  “That was…” His voice came out all croaky, and he cleared his throat and tried again. “That was unbelievable.” Hands-down the best blowjob he’d ever received.

  She smacked her lips together as though tasting something in her mouth. Him. “You liked it?” The mischievous grin was back.

  “You have no idea.” The words sounded like sandpaper scraping against a wooden surface.

  Sophie shivered.

  “Are you cold?” he rasped. Her high, pert breasts floated in the water, the nipples puckered into hard beads.

  Slowly she shook her head. “Not cold, no.” She closed her eyes and rested her head against the edge of the tub. “It’s your voice. God, Nathan. Just listening to you talk turns me on.”

  Her answer caught him in the chest and his heart stumbled over a beat. “It does?”

  “Whatever you say, I feel it on my skin. At the coffee shop, your words were like hot honey running down my neck.” Her breathing slowed. “Lying on the couch now? I asked questions just so I could hear you answer. If we hadn’t just had sex, I’d have been totally aroused. And now, after you’ve come…your voice sounds…feels like a million silky fingers roaming over my breasts and my stomach…and lower.” One of her hands hovered in the water, and she dragged her nails across her nipples and moaned. “Your voice feels like the first flutters of an orgasm.”

  Nathan watched, speechless. For the life of him, he could not think of one single response. It wasn’t as if he’d never heard a compliment about his voice before. Hell, his entire career revolved around his vocals. It was the way Sophie said it. As if his voice alone could bring her sexual fulfillment.

  She caressed her breasts without opening her eyes. “Talk to me, Nathan. Say something. Anything.”

  Still he stared, dumbstruck. Watching her stroke herself was possibly the sexiest thing he’d ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

  Her arm stilled. “Nathan?”

  “No,” he objected. “Don’t stop. Let me watch you touch yourself.”

  Sophie let out a small moan and pinched a nipple between two fingers.

  Nathan swallowed. “Do you have any idea how much of a turn-on that is?”

  “What?” Sophie whispered.

  “You,” Nathan whispered back. “Pleasuring yourself to the sound of my voice.”

  “Do you have any idea what a turn-on your voice is?” Sophie asked.

  “Show me.” Nathan bit the inside of his cheek. He wanted to touch her almost as much as he wanted to watch her. “Move your hand lower.”

  Sophie froze.

  “Don’t stop, sweetheart. Listen to me. Move your hand lower.”

  Ever so slowly, Sophie complied. She dropped her hand from her breast to her stomach.

  “Lower still.” Nathan stared through the water at the distorted image of her hand. “Run your fingers over your clit.”

  Sophie shivered. Her shoulders tensed. Water rippled around her chest. He couldn’t see clearly through the steam, but the sharp hiss of air through her teeth told him she’d found what she sought.

  “Now stroke it,” he told her. “Using just your finger, stroke it in tiny circles. Lightly. Don’t apply any pressure.”

  Sophie’s lips parted slowly. “Mmmm.”

  “Keep going. Keep rubbing it, sweetheart.”

  “Keep speaking, Nathan,” she begged.

  Anything. He’d do anything to ensure she didn’t stop. “You look so damn beautiful sitting there. I’ve already come twice, and I swear I’m getting hard again. It’s you, Sophie Rose. You bring out the beast in me.”

  She whimpered.

  “Press on your clit a little harder,” he said. “Move your finger a little faster.”

  Again tiny ripples of water flowed around her.

  “Imagine it’s my voice touching you.”

  “It is,” she murmured. “Your voice is echoing right…through me. Right through…my pussy.”

  Nathan bit back a groan. His balls tightened painfully. Fuck, he couldn’t handle another erection. Not this soon. “It’s not just my voice on your pussy,” he told her. “It’s my mouth too. I’m running my tongue over your clit. Licking your swollen flesh. I…I can’t wait to lick lower, to taste your juices as they spill out between your legs.”

  The ripples turned to small waves as her arm moved frantically below the surface. “Nathan…oh, God…”

  Fuck. So much for avoiding another erection. “Is it happening? Are you feeling the first flutters of orgasm?”

  She let out a strangled gasp.

  He was at half-mast and growing every minute. “Look at me, Sophie Rose. I want to see your eyes when you come.”

  Sophie opened her eyes and stared at him wildly.

  Yes. Exactly how he’d imagined them. Exactly how he’d seen them…in his dreams. “Let go now. Let the pleasure roll through you. Let it overcome you.” He waited a heartbeat and then whispered, “Come for me, Sophie Rose. Come to the sound of my voice.”

  When the cameras stop rolling, the real scene begins .

  Spice and Smoke

  © 2012 Suleikha Snyder

  To their adoring public, Avi Kumar and Trishna Chaudhury are Bollywood’s sweethearts. Behind closed doors, their open marriage lets them freely indulge in all manner of forbidden passions. The arrangement suits them both, but as they begin filming on the set of their new movie, the heat of new and rekindled flames singes the pages of what they thought would be a fresh script.

  When costars Michael Gill and Harsh Mathur arrive on set, the sexual temperature goes up exponentially—at least for Trish. She can’t take her eyes of Harsh, for whom she’s carried a torch for years. Avi’s instant attraction to Michael, however, bounces off Michael’s solid wall of resistance.

  Meanwhile, ex-boyfriends Vikram Malhotra and Sam Khanna, cast as fictional enemies, are finding it harder and harder to control the very real demons that once cost them the love of a lifetime.

  Once the music starts, though, they all have no choice but to dance. And pray the fallout doesn’t ruin all their careers…and destroy their love.

  Warning: This book contains gay and straight sexytimes, smoking, drinking, references to drug use, and a gratuitous musical number involving The Beatles.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Spice and Smoke:

  The ceremonial coconut shattered into pieces against the floor of the dais, and flashbulbs popped in tandem, capturing the auspicious sign that everything beyond the film’s first shot would be a success. Trishna tried not to shade her eyes from the glare, focusing on a spot on the far wall of the set. Cracks spider-webbed out from a hole, and if she were to squint—which she wouldn’t, because she’d look half-blind in all the photos—she would probably see a tiny lizard peering out from the gap.

  A “tamasha”, Avi had called it when they readied themselves this morning. Noise and silly bus
iness. “Hollywood films don’t have a muhurat,” he’d complained, finishing tying his tie and then moving on to helping her with the draping of her sari.

  “You know what else Hollywood films don’t have, big shot?” She’d undone his tie, shoving him backwards towards their bed. “You.”

  Avi had tangled one huge hand in her hair while his other unwound her sari, leaving her in nothing but blouse and petticoat. Silk pooled to the floor at her feet, like the softness already gathered between her thighs.

  If they were ten minutes late, so be it. The tamasha would wait.

  Sure, The Raj was Govind Joshi’s baby, his latest historical blockbuster, but only when she and Avi had signed on had the real buzz begun. They were Mumbai’s newest power couple, Bollywood’s sweethearts despite being so very spicy. They hadn’t done a film together since their marriage six years ago, and it was a coup to get them to sign on for Joshi’s project. So if that meant delaying the first shot…which was just an establishing interior of the old palatial mansion anyway…then the whole crew would just have to deal.

  Their fashionably late, and slightly mussed, entrance had only been marred by one thing: two stragglers who had come even later.

  Trish’s gaze flickered across the stage, where Harsh Mathur and Michael Gill were shaking hands with the music director. Avi’s hand tightened in hers, his thumb tracing filthy words on her skin. It was a trick he’d perfected over the years, smiling beatifically while spelling out, “I want to fuck you” against her palm or her wrist. Only this time, it wasn’t “I want to fuck you”, it was, “I want to fuck him”.

  Him. Michael Gill. A model-turned-actor, he was half-British and half-Indian. People always seemed surprised at how fluent he was in Urdu and Hindi, not realizing he’d lived most of his life in Punjab. Those in the industry practically forgot he was English at all. His dark brown hair and dark eyes weren’t a dead giveaway, and his tan was just as much natural as it was a product of too much surfing. But he was a casting director’s dream, because he could play the Hindi-speaking Englishman with just as much ease as he could the fully Indian hero.