by Vivian Arend
She was already scrambling into her harness. “Now.”
Derrick exchanged a confused shrug with Nathan, but went to grab his belt. Nathan gathered the remains of their dinner and cleared the floor, stepping out of the way to allow Melanie access to the wall.
She grabbed him by the arm on her return journey, hauling him close and hugging him fiercely. Nathan was stiff at first before returning the salute.
They were both grinning like fools when he stepped away.
Derrick was in the middle of checking the straps on her harness when Melanie caught him unaware. The gentle touch of her lips to his cheek was accompanied by her fingers tangling in his hair. She tugged until their lips connected, then continued the light blessing of their mouths together.
It would be easy to do this all night long.
When she pressed her hands to his chest, it was to both push them apart and to keep them together, her fingers clutching the front of his shirt. “I love you.”
A rush of happiness hit like a rockslide, making his knees weak. “I love you too.”
“On belay?”
Oh man. Would he ever get used to her high-energy mood swings? Derrick adjusted the rope, taking up the slack and pulling his head back into the game. “Belay on.”
Melanie grabbed the wall, stepping up to lift both feet clear of the floor. “Climbing?”
He’d support her as high as she wanted to go. “Climb on.”
One move followed another. Deliberate. Cautious, yet not. She tested her grip before releasing each previous hold, but she didn’t take the simplest route up the wall. She reached and stretched, using her muscular legs and flexible core to attempt challenging holds.
Nathan stepped behind him and spoke quietly as if afraid to disturb her. “What’s she doing?”
Derrick shrugged but kept his eyes locked on her rising body. “Proving something to us? Something to herself?”
“She doesn’t have to prove anything to me.”
Melanie didn’t even hesitate as she passed the fifteen-foot marker, progressing one hold at a time. Pride swelled inside Derrick at her fearlessness. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Halfway up the wall she paused. “Take.”
“Got. Fabulous work.” The poise she showed highlighted how far she’d come in the past five months.
“Oh, I’m not done.”
Derrick waited, watching her peer down at him from her perch. “What’s up, sweetheart?”
She flashed a grin on them both. “Give me slack. I’m climbing the rest freestyle.”
Shit. “Melanie…”
“Do it. I’m good. Really I am.”
He paused. Assessing. Looking into her bright eyes, her confident face. It took a lot for him to release his own fears. “As you wish.”
She blew him a kiss before facing the wall resolutely. “Climbing.”
Derrick forced himself to obey her request—mostly. She wouldn’t get hurt. Worst-case scenario, if she did slip off a hold, the rope he still controlled would halt her before she’d fallen far. He wasn’t strong enough to let her completely free, so he cheated, just a little. Gave her a loose rope, but took up the extra slack to make sure the most she could fall was less than five feet.
It wasn’t a case of not trusting her skills, but loving her enough to care even when she didn’t ask him to.
“She’s beautiful when she’s climbing.” There was a note of awe in Nathan’s voice.
“She’s beautiful all the time,” Derrick corrected.
And when Melanie reached the top of the wall and sounded the bicycle horn mounted on the ceiling, Derrick fought back tears.
“Take.” Sheer delight tinged her voice as she called out.
Derrick tightened up the extra rope to secure her in position. “Got.” For now. Forever.
Far above them, a loud shout echoed off the walls as Melanie cried out her victory, both hands raised over her head. She spun in a lazy circle as he lowered her to the ground and into his arms.
“I did it.” The words brushed past his cheek as she whispered in his ear. “I really did it.”
Derrick squeezed her close in spite of the ropes and harnesses tangled between them. She’d more than accomplished her goal. She’d risen above her fears, and he was going to enjoy every moment of watching her face the future.
Together, they could rise above any challenges that came their way.
About the Author
Vivian Arend has hiked, biked, skied and paddled her way around most of North America and parts of Europe. Throughout all the wandering in the wilderness, stories have been planted and they are bursting out in vivid colour. Paranormal, twisted fairytales, red-hot contemporaries—the genres are all over.
Between times of living with no running water, she home schools her teenaged children and tries to keep up with her husband—the instigator of most of the wilderness adventures.
She loves to hear from readers: [email protected]. You can also drop by www.vivianarend.com for more information on what is coming next.
Look for these titles by Vivian Arend
Now Available:
Granite Lake Wolves
Wolf Signs
Wolf Flight
Wolf Games
Wolf Tracks
Forces of Nature
Tidal Wave
Whirlpool
Turner Twins
Turn It On
Turn It Up
Pacific Passion
Stormchild
Stormy Seduction
Silent Storm
Falling, Freestyle
Coming Soon:
Paradise Found
Black Gold
Rocky Mountain Heat
Rocky Mountain Haven
Never venture out of bounds without a buddy—preferably two.
Falling, Freestyle
© 2010 Vivian Arend
Dara's past four incredible years have been lived to the fullest. Along with her best friends, Kane and Jack, she’s left no local wilderness unexplored, no ski slope unchallenged. Yet lately she wonders why they’ve never seen her as more than a buddy with breasts. When—or if—either man will cross that unspoken line.
It’s a line Kane eyes harder every day. Since high school, he and Jack have shared everything. A condo, vacations—and their best girl. Kane’s ready to get serious about his wilderness school and outfitter business, and that includes putting down roots. Preferably with Dara.
Wary of the men who’ve recently been sniffing around Dara, Jack has a growing sense that he or Kane better make a move soon, or they’re going to lose out on their perfect match. Question is, who does she prefer…and who’s going to bring their easygoing trio to an end?
Overhearing the boys arguing over her, Dara’s floored—and torn. Choose between them? No way. Drastic measures are called for, a plan for their annual holiday getaway that will clarify her feelings once and for all—or lose everything in a sexual storm of whiteout proportions.
Warning: Old friends turned lovers can get into the most trouble—exhibitionism, bondage, spanking. Anal sex, oral sex, unauthorized use of ski safety harnesses, icicles in the hot tub… The author apologizes in advance for any melted monitors.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Falling, Freestyle:
Alpine Responsibility Code
Rule #5—Safety restraints must be used at all times.
Dara stood erect, her breasts like some kind of missile system. Cocked and fully loaded, they aimed forward, barely contained by the wisp of fabric on her skin. It was the sexiest thing she owned and she felt more naked in it than if Kane had insisted she come to dinner in the nude.
She’d packed the scanty lingerie with uncertainty. Heck, she’d bought it during her mad planning session for this getaway, trying to think of what the guys might find attractive. It wasn’t her usual attire—having a string up her butt was not what she’d choose to wear most days. Besides, it was scary how much the shop had charged for mere inches
of material.
It was all worth it when she saw the expression in Jack’s eyes as Kane led her around the corner. His hands skittered over the utensils he was placing on the table.
“Oh sweet thing. Where have you been all my life?” He gave her one of his exaggerated winks.
Suddenly she was comfortable again. These were her buds, her “cuddle in the dark because there’s a lightning storm outside the tent” friends.
Her lovers as of an hour ago.
There was nothing to fear from them, not even clad in the most come-hither outfit in the world.
Kane seated her carefully, taking the chair on her right. Jack sat on her left and they all filled their plates with the pasta and aromatic sauce.
Jack placed a piece of bread on her plate and she wrinkled her nose. “Garlic bread?”
Kane pointed with his knife. “He made Caesar salad too. We’re all goners, so you’d better eat some in self-defense.”
“Garlic breath. Ugh. I guess we’re not planning on doing anything else tonight.”
The expression in Jack’s eyes shot down that idea immediately. Dara took a deep breath and turned her attention to the table. She couldn’t maintain his gaze, not yet. Not when he seemed to look straight through her and see what she really wanted.
Which wouldn’t be so bad if she knew herself.
Their lovemaking before supper had made it clear she was physically compatible with both the guys. Now she needed to concentrate on her real agenda. Who did she want the most, not just in the bedroom? Who did she have the best chance at forever with?
She reached for her fork and stopped in surprise. “Umm, Jack? The food looks great, but you forgot to give me any utensils.”
“Didn’t forget.”
Okay, now he was getting annoying. She pointed beside her plate. “Hello, nothing to eat with.”
His fingers encircled her wrist and tugged her arm toward him. Jack laid a thin black strap over her skin and smoothed the Velcro fasteners together. The band formed a loop around her wrist, like a sports-watch strap. A longer section, with a locking clip, extended five inches toward the floor. She stared at him in confusion, attempting to pull her hand back. He closed his fingers over the strap and trapped her in place.
Oh my God.
Kane cursed. “You just happened to have handcuffs in your luggage?”
Jack shook his head. “Safety harnesses from my skis.”
Dara’s head spun a little as her heart rate increased in a rush. Pure adrenaline shot into her veins and morphed into desire. The tiny scrap of lace between her legs grew instantly soaked. Jack’s pupils dilated as he steadily returned her gaze. He waited, his hand supporting hers and she knew he’d felt her tremble. She waited, willing the blood pounding through her limbs to slow enough she could stay vertical.
“Dara?”
Jack held out his other hand, a second restraint dangling from his fingers. His unspoken question hung in the air. Did she want this?
Hell, yes.
Slow, unsteady, she lifted her arm and offered her wrist. Kane swore quietly. Jack pressed a kiss to her palm, his gaze locked on hers. “Good girl.”
He fastened the second strap, then rose to his feet. She kept her gaze fixed on the table, sensing him walk behind her. Waiting for his touch. A hand landed gently on her shoulder and she shivered. He kissed her nape, brushing back her hair to whisper in her ear.
“There’s a flush over your whole body right now. Like a glow, lighting your skin. It’s going to make you more sensitive. Make every touch so much richer.”
He drew the back of a finger down her throat and over the upper swell of her breast. The way Kane had arranged her breasts in the supporting cups had forced the edge of her areolas to be visible at the top of the wispy fabric. Jack caressed, butterfly soft, along the dividing line between skin and material, and she swore her heart would explode.
His palms came to rest on her arms, slipping downward until he reached her wrists. Carefully he brought her hands together behind her back, looping the extra material around her lightly. The click of the clips locking together echoed in her ears louder than the blood roaring past.
A moan escaped. She was on fire.
Jack slid a finger inside the strap loops, testing the fit. “They aren’t tight, but you let me know the instant you want them off, understand?”
She nodded, unable to speak. If she truly wanted to escape she could slip free. It was the thought of being restrained that carried her into the fantasy.
Jack knelt and cupped her chin in his hand. He pressed his mouth to hers, his tongue stroking her lips—soft, teasing. When he drew back she would have followed and he brushed his knuckles past her cheek in a tender caress. “Later. Now we eat.”
Dara breathed out slowly as Jack regained his seat. She jumped lightly when a hand touched her right shoulder, Kane seeking her attention. His expression made her whimper, just a small sound of desire escaping as the hunger visible on his face twisted her insides.
“You have no idea what you are doing to me.” Kane’s words drove the need in her core even higher.
She caught a flash of his blue eyes before he kissed her as well, rough and thorough. Sucking the air from her lungs, his fingers tangled in her hair to hold their mouths together. She lost track of where she was, forgetting even that they were in front of Jack. The haze of excitement enveloping her grew until she attempted to clasp him back, and her arms wouldn’t budge.
Another burst of lust shot through her. Oh my God, the restraints. Whatever else happened this weekend, she was already more turned on than she’d been in her life.
Play out the hand her way…or fold?
Raising the Stakes
© 2010 Jess Dee
Three of a Kind, Book 2
After four years, Megan Loxley has given up waiting for her best friend, Desmond Reed, to realize she loves him. It’s time to move on. When Des introduces her to his poker buddy, Alex Truman, the instantaneous sparks that flare between them signal her life is about to change forever.
Des could kick himself. How could he have failed to notice the perfect woman was by his side all this time? Now it’s too damn late. And her innocent prodding about why he’s suddenly so distant is only making his hunger for her worse. Then she gets one step too close—and his self-restraint snaps.
Stunned, bewildered, furious, Meg can’t help but respond to the kisses for which she waited so long. God help her, she loves Des. And Alex, too. Immeasurably. Now what?
It may make her the greediest woman alive, but she’s determined to win the next hand—even if she has to change the game a little. First step: state her wildly sexy proposition in a language both men will understand…and hope they’ll stick around and play by her rules.
Warning, If you’re looking for a cool game of poker, you won’t find it here. This novella is so hot the cards are still smoking. The heroine may be new to the game, but she knows exactly how to play her two kings.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Raising the Stakes:
Megan stood in the doorway.
She was a mess.
Her hair stood in disarray, her dress was crumpled. Tears streaked down her scarlet cheeks and her gaze was wild, a mixture of horror, confusion and despair.
“Alex…” His name was a guttural moan.
He bolted off the chair. His knees jerked as he straightened. Warning prickles tapped at his spine. What the…?
She launched herself at him, her words tumbling from her mouth as she threw her arms around him. “Alex. I’m so sorry. God, so sorry. I didn’t mean for… Please, you have to know I love you. Have to believe it. I do, I love you.”
Before he had a chance to answer, she kissed him. Her lips begged his for a response, pleaded for his forgiveness. For what?
He stood immobile, his arms suspended in the air. Did he hold her, hug her? Did he kiss her back?
God, how could he not?
“I love you, Al. I swear.” Her mou
th was frenetic.
He couldn’t help himself. He kissed her, drowned in the pleasure her mouth evoked, even as her apology worried the back of his mind. He held her waist, pulling her closer. Her skin was hot to the touch, burning, and her nipples were hard points against his chest. This was Megan at her most aroused. A woman unable to step away from the spiral of hunger that whirled within her. A woman who wanted and needed and desired. This was a Megan he recognized. A woman half-sated sexually and half-mad with need.
The half-mad with need he could deal with, he could resolve. The sexual satiation? It made him want to fucking murder someone.
“No!”
The roar came from behind Megan. She twirled around in his arms.
“You don’t get to do that with him.” Des’s protest bellowed through the room. “Not after what you just did with me.”
“Des.” Megan’s cry ripped through Alex’s heart. She pulled away from him and stepped into the other man’s embrace.
Des’s fury and Megan’s response to it rendered Alex momentarily immobile. Shaken, he gawked as Des crushed his lips over Megan’s. Even more astounding was Megan’s response. She gave an animalistic moan and kissed him right back.
Holy fuck, this is not happening.
Yes, it was. The woman he loved kissed the man she loved.
Fuck. Fuck, double fuck and cluster fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Alex acted on instinct. He wound his arms around Megan’s waist and tugged her away from Des, pulling her across the room, her back plastered to his front. She went with him willingly.
Des glowered at him.
“Fuck you,” Alex spat at him and spun Megan around. “You. Are. Mine!” That was all he said before he claimed her back, kissing her so thoroughly she couldn’t possibly doubt his words.
“I am. I’m yours.” Megan’s hands were on his back, shoving his T-shirt up. Her fingers clawed at his flesh. He’d have scratch marks there tomorrow, but he didn’t give a shit. Her hands belonged on his body, his flesh. Not Des’s.