Breaking Skye

by Bradley, Eden

  Allegra had pushed too hard that morning—had it only been six weeks ago?—leaning heavily on her ridiculous cane, her skin covered in sweat as if she’d run a marathon rather than walked a few simple blocks. She could see the apartment. She only had to cross one narrow street and climb one steep flight of stairs. It might as well have been Mount Everest.

  She’d lowered herself carefully onto the curb in front of a shop that smelled of espresso beans and chocolate. It was as good a place to live as any, she’d thought, closing her eyes and focusing on slowing her heart rate. All she needed was a cold drink and a pillow, and she’d pay whatever curbs were going for these days.

  “I have an extra iced coffee with your name on it.”

  The voice had slid down her spine like a rough tongue, instantly making her think of late nights and sweat-soaked sex.

  Sultry, with just enough edge to put her hibernating libido on red alert.

  Allegra fanned herself dramatically. “Don’t lie to a dying woman.”

  They’d laughed softly together and she shielded her eyes with her hand, looking up with a friendly smile at the warrior god who was handing her a coffee.

  He was perfect.

  Light cocoa skin and full lips framed by a closely trimmed goatee that saved his face from being too pretty. His body, however, was all male; thick thighs, lean arms roped with muscle and tribal tattoos, the hand holding the to-go cup so big she actually shivered. And those eyes. Hazel, heavy-lidded, long-lashed. The writer in her was inspired. Smoky eyes. Bedroom eyes. Brooding. Unless you wrote romance, how often did you get to use those words?

  His hair fell in thick dreadlocks to his waist, tied back loosely with what looked like an extra apron tie. Allegra nearly melted into the concrete at the sight.

  In high school, when her friends had all gone insane for the rock-and-roll hair bands, she’d never understood it. No male should have prettier or longer hair than she did. But he’d done it. This stranger had made long hair—knotted hair—sexy. She’d wanted to grip it and pull his lean, broad-shouldered body closer, to study every line of his face and the tattoo she noticed peeking out from the neckline of his white T-shirt. To kiss him, before he’d even told her his name.

  He’d handed her the coffee, free of charge, and they exchanged a few sentiments about the weather before he abruptly left her to go back inside, the line at the cash register grabbing his attention.

  The next day there’d been a small table and chair beside the café, just for her. It had quickly become a ritual between them.

  She, sweaty and wrung out from her morning workout; he, cool and devastatingly attractive, if distant. But every day she came back, hoping for more. For conversation. For flirting. For some- thing. She’d never drunk so much coffee in her life.

  Like Michelle said, she’d heard the talk. Noticed that his morning crowd was mostly made up of women. And those women would speak in loud, giggling whispers about him as they walked by her table. They would say he knew the right words to heal, and his touch could melt even the coldest heart. And sex with him? Sex with him was a blessing from Marie Laveau herself. According to them, he was the love doctor of the Big Easy.

  Bone Daddy.

  That’s what they called him. A walking, talking, well-hung plea- sure factory who, with a few easy orgasms, could bring you what- ever your heart desired. Your boyfriend would propose, your boss would give you a raise. Rumor had it he could even heal your scars, inside and out. If you satisfied his lust.

  The conversations were confusing, since they didn’t seem to jibe with her own observations of Rousseau. With her, Rousseau was solicitous but shy. And always respectful. Maybe she wasn’t his type, though sometimes she thought she saw something in his eyes. Lust. For her. And it gave her hope.

  She could be mistaking desire for pity or heartburn, but she didn’t think so. She couldn’t be wrong. Her feelings were far too intense to be one-sided.

  Yes. He was trouble. But it was exactly the kind of trouble she wanted. After a year of being resigned to the life of a shut-in, the wild thing in her wanted to come out and play. And it only wanted to play with him.

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  Bonus Excerpt - RG Alexander: Four For Christmas

  Dreaming of a White Christmas led her straight into their arms...

  In this holiday spin off of the bestselling novella Three For Me?, saving a man in a snowstorm leads Georgia Bale to an isolated cabin, where three men have an important promise to keep. A promise Georgia soon becomes caught up in herself.

  She just wanted to survive Christmas, and her bad holiday karma. She had no idea that accepting a friend's invitation to Colorado would lead her to her perfect man. Times three.

  What does an eccentric writer do when a compassionate doctor, a dominant police officer, and a handsome adrenaline junkie only have eyes for her?

  Use her imagination.

  But when the storm clears, she'll have to decide which path to take. The way back home, or the road less traveled.

  Warning: A bit of heart tugging, excessive use of imagination, role-playing (the dirty kind), foursomes, magic, a guardian angel or two... and the kinky use of holiday themed beverages.

  Excerpt

  Georgia stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Who was this woman? Her wet hair curled in wild loose ringlets around her head, her cheeks and neck were red with evidence of passionate kisses and razor burn. She had swollen lips and eyes that sparkled in a way they never had before.

  Was this who they saw when they looked at her?

  When they’d come in with Flynn’s Peppermint Snowstorm—the drink Flynn named in honor of how they met, he’d said—she was certain things would get awkward. She hadn’t had to worry for long.

  Chris, catching the other men’s gazes, had quickly scooped her up and carried her to the fireplace. They’d laid her down in front of it and proceeded to pour the chilly concoction on particularly sensitive parts of her body, lapping it up until she was crying out with pleasure. She had no idea how long it lasted, she only knew that it was the most selfless lovemaking session she’d ever experienced. They took nothing. They were completely focused on her.

  The water in the sink was still running, she realized with a start. She’d come in to take a shower at their suggestion. They were giving her a moment to collect herself, she knew. Pampering her, while Flynn took Roux out for a walk and put her back in the bedroom, and Jimmy and Chris cleaned up the mess they’d made in front of the fire.

  Her skin was sensitive. Everywhere the shower had hit her, everywhere she’d brushed her soap-covered hand had caused a jolt. It was like each nerve ending in her body had been turned on, but someone had forgotten to switch her off.

  And the way she ached. In places she never had before. She smiled and turned off the water. It was a feeling she knew she could easily get used to.

  “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask what you’re doing in here.”

  Georgia jumped, laughing when she saw Jimmy’s reflecting in the mirror. He was wearing a patrol hat, a towel, and nothing else.

  “Officer Jimmy,” she batted her eyelashes. “I had no idea the snow patrol was on duty.”

  He grinned and pulled the hat off his head, running his hand through his hair almost bashfully. “Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t gotten lost.”

  He wanted to make sure she wasn’t hiding again. That she didn’t regret what they’d just done.

  Why was it she could read them all so well? She’d never been like this with anyone. This aware. This in tune. “I wasn’t lost, but there’s no way you could be sure I wasn’t up to something.”

  His brow furrowed and she winked, fiddling with the fabric of the loosely tucked in towel wrapped around her body. “Not unless you search me.”

  His eyes darkened with understanding, and he licked his lips. “My searches are known for being thorough.”

  Georgia dropped her towel, knowing he could see everything. “I have nothing to hide, Offi
cer.”

  He dropped his hat and took a step toward her, hesitating as he looked over his shoulder before closing the door to the bathroom behind him. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, ma’am. Put your hands on the counter and spread your legs. Slowly now. Don’t make any sudden moves.”

  Her arousal was already dampening her thighs. Just hearing him speak in that tone. Knowing she had to submit to him. That she wanted to. Loving that, just like Chris had his secret fantasies about playing doctor, Jimmy had his own desire to play Sexy Cop. Which was a good thing, because ever since she’d had him in her mouth, she’d been wondering what he would feel like inside her.

  She bent over, spreading her legs and placing her hands on the bathroom counter for balance. Then she wiggled her bottom expectantly.

  Jimmy groaned. “I could bring you in for being a tease, sweet Georgia. After what we just did in there, I’m wired too tightly for you to play with me.”

  “But I want to play, Officer.” She bit her lip. “Aren’t you going to frisk me?”

  He came up behind her, ripping his towel off his hips and letting it drop beside hers. That’s when she felt it. Hot and hard against her back. He definitely wanted to play.

  He cupped her softly hanging breasts. “You are a bad girl, Georgia. You know how I know? Because every time I close my eyes now all I can see is you sucking my cock. God, it was a beautiful thing to watch. But I still wanted more.”

  She watched as one hand left her breast and slid around behind her, caressing the curve of her ass. “I wanted to be in here.” His hand continued to roam until it slipped between her legs, feeling the wet heat there. “I wanted to be in here.”

  He pressed his lips to her temple. Leaning over her and covering her hands with his. “Even after I’d come, I wanted to get inside you. It sounds crazy when I say it, I know. I can’t explain it.”

  She knew the feeling. She pressed her bottom against him, spreading her legs farther apart. “Come inside,” she whispered, watching Jimmy’s big body shudder at her words.

  He lifted one hand and reached to open the drawer beside her hip. He rummaged through it, stopping to whisper, “Thank you” before pulling out a condom.

  Georgia bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. Yes. Again. How could she want more already? They’d created a monster. “Please, Jimmy. Hurry.”

  He swore, his usual calm command suddenly seeming to desert him. He placed a firm hand on her shoulder and met her gaze in the reflection. “You are hell on my control, Georgia.”

  He pulled her back against him with his hand while his hips slung forward, filling her with one, powerful thrust. She cried out, then covered her mouth with her hands, her elbows the only things holding her body off the counter.

  Jimmy bent over to whisper in her ear as he continued his slow, long, powerful strokes. “That’s right.” His words were short bursts of air, matching his thrusts. “You don’t want them to hear. You want me to fuck you. Just like this. Don’t you, bad girl?”

  She nodded, loving the way he controlled her body. Loving the roughness.

  He smiled. “Jesus, they’re right. You are fucking perfect, aren’t you? You love this.” He thrust his hips against her so hard the counter rattled and she saw dark spots in front of her eyes. She did love it. Heaven help her, she seemed to love whatever they did to her.

  Her sex clenched around him as she felt the first waves of her climax. Her body was primed now by all that had come before. Addicted to the pleasure. Jimmy swore. “I wanted this to last longer.”

  His hips rocked against her, faster now as she moaned and buried her face in her hands. So good. He felt so good.

  “Georgia, fuck Georgia—“ he let out a short shout before burying his face in her hair, trying to muffle his sounds of ecstasy he made as he came inside her.

  When he lifted his head she looked up, both of them seeing similarly stunned expressions in the mirror. Georgia wasn’t sure if she could stand up again. Or how many more orgasms she could have in one night before dying from endorphins.

  This much of a good thing didn’t happen to Georgia Bale. Especially not in time for her birthday. Not for Christmas.

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  Bonus Excerpt - RG Alexander: Marley in Chains

  Excerpt

  “What’s your wife bringing?”

  Michael shut the door and furrowed his brow. “Excuse me?”

  She wasn’t going to ask again. She walked over to the desk and touched the paperweight shaped like a boxing glove. She’d gotten that for Michael’s father when she was thirteen. It was still here.

  “Marley,” he huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “My wife won’t be bringing anything. I’m not married.”

  She shrugged, not turning to look at him, though she felt a rush of relief she knew she had no right to. “I was sure Jessica Ryan would have had you cornered before you hit twenty-one.”

  “Jessica Ryan was already hooked up by the time I turned twenty-one.” Michael’s wry tone forced her to turn to face him. “She and Anna Poole are still together, as a matter of fact. They co-coach the cheerleading squad for our old high school.”

  Jessica and Anna? Marley felt her eyes go wide. They’d been two of the most promiscuous girls in school. Who saw that coming? “I guess I’ve missed a lot.” She swallowed as she stared at the ridges of his stomach, the dark color of his nipples and the droplets of sweat cooling on his skin. She wanted to lick it off his body. Wanted to feel it on her skin. “Everything is so…um…different. I shouldn’t have come.”

  “Not everything, princess,” he growled, moving closer slowly, as if he didn’t want to startle her. “Some things appear to be exactly the same.”

  Did he mean the way she reacted to him whenever they were alone? The way her throat closed and her thighs heated whenever he looked at her the way he was looking at her now?

  She’d imagined this office so many times. The cot in the corner where she and Michael had once lain in silence, listening to the grunts of the men working out downstairs while she allowed him to touch her. Just touch her. Over her clothes. On her newly budding breasts. Between her thighs. It had been exciting and forbidden. The possibility of being caught. The innocent eroticism of the moment.

  Grown-up Marley wanted more. She imagined him bending her over the desk and taking her. Now, when everyone knew she was here. When they’d all be able to hear her cries of pleasure.

  She really needed to get a hold of herself.

  “I know about Carlos,” she said, shifting and feeling the denim of her jeans graze her sensitive sex. “I want to help. I just…I’m not sure what you want from me. Or why you think I could do anything at all.”

  Michael smiled. “You’ve always been good at changing the subject, princess. But I’ll let it slide for now since you actually showed up. The answer is on the bookshelf. The envelope beneath the little tree.”

  A small, potted evergreen. He was still doing that? They’d gotten one every year, decorated it carefully, then made sure to plant it somewhere the day after Christmas. So the memories would live on as long as the trees were growing. It was Carlos who’d started that tradition, but Marley had always loved the sentiment.

  She walked over to the bookshelf near the window and lifted the pot. A crumpled, stained envelope, right where he said it would be. She opened it and began to read, feeling heat warm her cheeks and pain squeeze her heart. This was too intimate. Too personal. She didn’t have the right anymore. Not to have this kind of window into the tender soul of a man she hadn’t seen in so long. Oh, Carlos, she silently sighed. She hadn’t even seen him and he was already breaking her heart.

  When she finished reading her sigh was shaky. “You think that’s what he wants? I don’t know if I can… Michael? What are you doing?”

  He’d come up behind her, gripping her hips with his strong hands as he pressed his erection against the curve of her ass. “I can’t fucking help it, Marley. I’ll stop if you tell me to but, seeing you in
here, like this—do you remember?”

  He knew she did. He rocked his hips against her and she gasped, her fingers tightening on the pages of the letter as he slid his hands up to caress the sides of her breasts. Lightly. Teasingly.

  His voice was rich with need. “I’m not talking about the touching, though I remember that too. I’m talking about that time you and Carlos caught me in here before the gym was open. When I’d slept here again because the family had descended and we had no more room in the house. That morning I woke up dreaming about you, still smelling your shampoo on the pillow. I was only seventeen. I didn’t have as much practice at control. Didn’t think I needed to.”

  How could she have forgotten that? Her eyes closed and she could see it so clearly. She’d come in right before Carlos, both of them smiling in secret delight at the idea of waking him with their frozen hands and a bag of his favorite kolaches from the corner bakery.

  She’d never seen an erection before. Certainly she’d never seen Michael’s. Never imagined she’d be so instantly titillated by the way he gripped it in his fist, his naked hips pumping upward as he gritted his teeth and made a sound that was almost one of pain.

  Carlos had taken her hand in his and squeezed, trying to drag her backward without disturbing him. She’d resisted. She wasn’t sure why. She only knew she wanted to see more. Needed to see everything.

  Michael’s voice in her ear told her he was remembering it too. “I opened my eyes just in time to see you lick your lips. Did you know you’d done that? Licked the same lips I was imagining wrapped around my cock?” He growled. “Knowing you were watching had me coming harder than I ever had. Watching those pretty green eyes go wide when you saw it happen—fuck—I knew in that moment that you wanted to know. What it tasted like. What I tasted like. Was I right?”