by Alison Paige
“Oh no. Your ring,” Kate said.
Joe stepped back and dug into the wet pocket of his jeans. He pulled out his academy ring and held it up for her to see. “You mean this ring?”
“You kept it with you? Yes.” She held out her hand in the small space between them, fingers splayed. “Can I have it back?”
Joe wrinkled his chin, shook his head. “The kid was right. It’s a stupid ring to give to a woman.”
Kate’s chest squeezed. “No. It’s perfect. I love it.”
He shrugged. “No diamond.”
“So? What difference does that…” Her breath caught. “Wait. What’re you saying?”
“Marry me.”
“Wha? We’ve only known each other a couple of weeks.”
“We’ll make it a long engagement if it makes you feel better.”
Goose bumps rushed over Kate’s body, her heart a thundering gallop in her ears. Was this happening? The sweet comfort and sizzling chemistry she felt with Joe was different, but did it really mean he was the one? Her heart knew the answer, but years of heartache made her hesitant.
“Then why bother getting engaged now?” she asked, emotion clogging at the back of her throat.
His dark eyes held hers, intense. He gathered her close. He was trembling, barely, but she felt it. “I can’t live like this. I have to know you’re mine. I have to know you’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Then marry me, Kate. I love you.”
Her heart suddenly found a steady beat as the world slipped into perfect rotation. She smiled and pointed to the ring he’d closed in his hand. “I want that.”
“Marry me and it’s yours.”
“You gave it to me for my birthday. Technically, it’s already mine.” Warmth and love flooded through her. She smiled, bright, happy. “And I’m already yours.”
She splayed her fingers between them again and Joe slipped his precious ring into place.
“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she said. “But I’m keeping the ring.”
“You keep the ring and I’ll keep you. Sounds fair.”
“Right.”
About the Author
Alison Paige is the pen name of multi-published author Paige Cuccaro. She writes as Alison Paige when her stories run hot and spicy—and as Paige Cuccaro when the fun in the bedroom is more of a sexy simmer. The romance is always key, whether it’s between people of this world, or out of this world.
Alison (Paige) lives in Ohio with her husband, three daughters, three dogs, three cats and one parakeet and a bearded dragon named Rexy in an ever-shrinking house. When she’s not writing she can be found doing the mom thing with a book in one hand and a notepad and pen in the other. Ideas come without warning and the best way to stimulate your imagination is to enjoy the imagination of someone else.
To learn more about Alison Paige, please visit www.AlisonPaige.com. Send an email to Alison Paige at [email protected].
Look for these titles by Alison Paige
Now Available:
Obey Me
Tame Horses Wild Hearts
He’s rich, single, sexy and…oh, yeah. Undead.
Obey Me
© 2008 Paige Cuccaro
A Gifted story
Sophie Merlo dreams of becoming an international journalism star. Until her uncanny nose for news leads her into the path of a brutal serial killer. Now she’d be happy just to survive the week.
Alex wants only one answer from Sophie—how she wormed her way into his exclusive vampires-only club, something no human should be able to do. He thinks he’s being set up in a string of murders, and he’s got a good idea who it is—Octavius, his long-time, bitter rival. Only Octavius could figure out how to leave Alex’s distinctive mark behind on the victims’ throats.
One drop of Alex’s saliva on Sophie’s skin has her babbling a river, swimming in desire for him—and agreeing to use her persuasive powers to help find the real murderer.
Caught in the middle of a century-old feud between two rival vampires, there are only three things Sophie knows for sure: One of them is a killer. The other wants to take her to bed. And they’re both lying.
If she can’t figure out who’s lying about what soon, her career hopes could vanish. Right along with her last drop of blood.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Obey Me:
“Do you know? Do you understand what it is I want to do to you?” His breath warmed across my mouth, the hint of wine and some other tempting spice I couldn’t name filled my nose, rippled down my throat to breeze through my lungs.
“Yes. You…you want to take my…blood.”
He lifted his chin and pressed a kiss to my forehead. The skin beneath his lips warmed instantly with a heat that went beyond simple body temperature. It seemed to ripple all along my skin working its way through my body like a drug. “That’s right. But do you understand what the feel of it will do to us?”
I swallowed again, my eyes closed, my nose brushing under his chin breathing in the sweet powdery scent of his cologne, his lips feathering against my forehead. “Blood lust.” The words were barely audible.
“Lust. Raw and powerful. To lose all abandon. You won’t be able to stop. You must be sure, Sophie…now.” He leaned back just enough to watch my face.
I nodded, uncertain my voice would be heard. “I’m sure.” I held my breath.
His gaze focused on my mouth again and my lips parted an instant before he pressed his kiss. The taste of him filled my mouth, cinnamon and sweet wine, the flavor swirled over my tongue, warmed down my throat like a fine liqueur. Delicious heat spread like a blaze gone wild, burning me up from the inside, igniting every nerve ending, awakening my body so my muscles pulled tight, need coiled low and my thighs trembled.
His muscles flexed under my hands pulling me closer, tighter. His kiss deepened and my mind swam with the feel of his tongue exploring my mouth, his fingers denting my back, gripping my head, holding me…like prey. I felt consumed and wanted more, but he pulled himself back, trailing his lips along my cheek, nibbling my ear, teasing his teeth over my neck.
I shuddered, each scrape of his teeth sending a fast pulse through my sex. Hot and wet with lust, I squirmed in his arms, fumbling with the buttons down his shirt. Alex pulled back enough to help, shrugging the white cotton off his shoulders, allowing only a moment for me to work his belt and zipper before his hands slipped up to my shoulders.
I unfastened the button of his slacks so they loosened around his narrow hips just as he hooked his fingers on the edge of my dress and slid the red elastic tube off my shoulders and down my arms, letting it fall down my legs to pool on the floor around my feet. I was left wearing only a pair of lace boy-cut panties and my high-heeled shoes. Both matched the dress. The neckline had been too low to allow for a bra.
Alex’s blue eyes took me in, lingering over me from head to toe as though a picture were being drawn in his mind. My heart thundered in my chest, muscles so tight my breaths came in soft, shallow pants. I wanted his lips on mine again, his arms around me, the heat of his hard body pressed to mine.
“Alex…” I fought not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze. His eyes met mine and the heat of his stare nearly took my breath. He swept in and pressed another searing kiss to my lips then bent lower to capture my breast in his mouth.
I gasped as the warmth of his venom penetrated through the pores on the sensitive flesh. The gentle massage of his hand turned my knees to rubber. I wrapped my arm around his head, held him to me as he suckled my breast, tugging the hard nipple into his mouth.
Would he bite me there? A wave a desire swamped through me and I moaned out loud at the thought, arching my back, pressing my flesh deeper into his mouth. I wanted to feel his teeth sink into me, to feel the rush of blood as it spilled from my body into his.
Somewhere in the distant parts of my brain, I felt his hands at my hips, the soft chafe of my lace panties sliding down my thighs, tic
kling the tops of my feet, hooking on my high heels. I shifted to toe off my shoes, but Alex’s arm clutched around my waist, stilled me instantly.
“Leave them on,” he said, his voice rough and sexy. He gazed up at me, the scruff of his day-old beard scraping my nipple as he spoke. My breath caught at the maddening mix of pain and pleasure, and all I could do was nod.
He lowered his face to my body again, kissing and nipping, the teasing promise of his bite spinning my mind, churning a firestorm of desire through my veins. He tasted my body, kissing the bottom round of my breast, slipping lower to the tip of my breastbone, then lower still to my belly. He sank to his knees and finally, in a heart-stopping instant, he pressed a kiss to the coarse hairs at my sex. With a firm wet lick, he traced his tongue between the sensitive lips. The sensation buckled my knees and in a move far too quick and fluid for me to track, he stood, scooping me into his arms, driving me backwards toward my bedroom. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my high heels catching his back, snagging the belt loop of his slacks.
An instant later Alex was on top of me, his body pinning me to my mattress. He kissed me hard, driving his tongue into my mouth, filling me with the taste of him, the heady burn of his venom. I arched my hips, felt the hard line of his erection trapped beneath layers of cloth. My skin hummed with the feel of his kiss pulsing through my veins, my body moist and ready for him. I reached for his slacks, the tight elastic of his underwear…and pushed.
Alex ground his hips against me, triggered my body to push back, wanting the hardness of him to fill me. I pushed at his clothes again, nudged them to the highest curve of his ass. His stiff sex and the press of his body against mine kept the material from slipping lower.
Enough. I wanted him inside me and with a small point of my high-heeled shoe, I snagged underwear and slacks alike, and shoved them down his thick muscled legs.
Alex pushed up on stiff arms, shifting his legs, kicking and pulling himself free of his clothes. His erection thudded against my groin, brushing through the hairs at my sex again and again. I reached down and took hold, feeling his thickness, caressing his length. Alex stilled for a moment, then rocked his hips, enhancing my strokes.
His was thick and long, but the velvet skin wasn’t as taut as it could be, it wrinkled and gathered at the head moving with my hand. His body didn’t possess enough blood, his heart too weak and slow to flood his penis. He was hard enough to do the job, but he’d never reach satisfaction this way.
I flicked my gaze to his and found him staring into my eyes, reading me.
She’s finally falling for the right man…at the worst possible time.
Fall Into Me
© 2009 Linda Winfree
A Hearts of the South book
After two back-to-back romantic disappointments, bar owner Angel Henderson isn’t looking for love. In the past month, she’s been passed over twice by men she’d pinned her hopes on, both times in favor of a younger woman. She’s ready to swear off men for life. The only problem? A certain younger man determined to prove he can be her right man.
Sheriff’s deputy Troy Lee Farr is tired of being the department screw-up. The harder he tries to prove himself, the worse it gets. The only thing that’s gone right recently is getting a second chance with Angel. Except she’d rather jam on the brakes than rush into a new relationship. Now he has to work hard to prove his worth as a romantic prospect.
Troy Lee is a patient man, and it isn’t long before Angel is falling into him as hard as he’s fallen for her. Just as Angel begins to think of him as more than a fun date, her past—and Troy’s dangerous reality—threatens the tentative happiness they’ve found in one another.
Reminding them both that security is tenuous…and unconditional love is the biggest challenge of all.
Warning: Cops who talk like cops, explicit older woman-younger man lovin’, and two-boxes-of-tissues emotion.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Fall Into Me:
Under the porch light, he grinned at her and snapped his phone closed. He held aloft a cellophane package. “I brought you a fortune cookie.”
She stared at him, her voice gone, swallowed up by surprise and sheer, overwhelming joy. One thumb hooked in his pocket, he appeared relaxed and almost boneless in his jeans and a T-shirt emblazoned with “26-2”. Somehow, she tamped down the swamping desire to throw herself into his arms.
His eyes gleamed, burned. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” She finally found her ability to talk, although the words came out shaky and small.
“Don’t hold back.” His blue gaze dark and serious, he didn’t temper the words with a grin. “I don’t want you to.”
She tucked damp hair behind her ears, suddenly aware they were talking about more than the obvious. “Are you sure about that?”
One corner of his mouth hitched up. “I’ve always been sure.”
“What happened to just for fun, no sex or expectations?”
A chuckle escaped him in a low rumble. “I had to say something to get you to go out with me.”
She laughed, eating him up with her eyes, wondering what she was supposed to say or do next.
He held the cellophane packet up again. “So do you want your fortune cookie? I mean, I drove four hours—”
“I want you.”
His eyes went from smoldering to blazing. “Angel baby, I’m yours. Hell, I’m so yours it isn’t funny.”
A hot stare trembled between them, and in one step forward, two steps backward, her back landed against the wall inside the door and his mouth covered hers, kissing, teasing, devouring. She pushed at the door with one hand and somehow got it closed.
He lifted his mouth, chest heaving. He nuzzled her ear, uneven warmth rushing over her skin with each of his breaths.
“I want to know everything about you,” he murmured, hands moving over bare shoulders. His lips found hers. “What makes you moan, what turns you on, what makes you come apart.”
“Yes.” Her knees threatened to weaken, to leave her melted and boneless in his arms. “Oh Lord, Troy Lee, I want that.”
And more, that elusive something more, that specialness she’d never been for any other man. She wanted to lose herself in him, fall into them.
“Let me.” He dipped the very tip of his tongue between her lips, teasing, tantalizing, while his body pressed into hers, so she felt every hard inch of him. “Let me know you all over.”
She surged up against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. In a silence punctuated by kisses, she drew him the short distance to the dimness of her bedroom. He stared at her and sifted his fingers through her hair, stroked along her throat and shoulders, hooked his forefingers beneath her camisole straps and slid them down her arms. In their wake, he danced caresses along her bare skin.
“I’ve dreamed about this, about you,” she whispered, shivering as fingertips, callused from strumming guitar strings, feathered over her collarbone and traveled down to just touch the rise of her breasts.
“Me too.” He traced the lacy edge of her camisole. “Dreamed about you, thought about you, fantasized about you.”
“Fantasized?” Her breathless voice dripped with the arousal he brought to life within her. No one had ever claimed that she’d inspired his fantasies, and all sorts of wicked possibilities tumbled through her head as she pondered what he’d imagined, what he’d done while thinking of her. She flicked a glance up at him, from his burning gaze, to his fly and back again.
A slow, devilish smile revealed white teeth and he leaned in to whisper near her ear, “Yes, I did, while thinking about you, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Her faced burned, even as another flush of arousal sizzled through her, ending in a wet, pulsing heat between her legs. His dark chuckle tickled her ear. “It shocks you, doesn’t it, that I jacked off while thinking about being inside you. You’re awful naïve, for a woman who keeps giving me hell about being older than me.”
With every word, he made teasi
ng little forays just under her camisole. She moistened dry lips. “There haven’t been that many men who would have had reason to think about me and…and…”
“You can’t get it out, can you?” He laughed again, still touching her as he circled to stand behind her, fingertips rubbing maddening trails along the edge of her cami. “Have you ever done it?”
“Done what?” Now his chest pressed against her back, his arms enfolding her as he teased.
His humor rumbled through her and he pressed his lips to her shoulder. “I thought not.”
“That doesn’t mean anything, Troy Lee.” She tried for a stern note, but with his mouth doing sinful things to her neck while he edged the camisole down, she couldn’t pull off more than a husky protest.
“Maybe not.” The thin fabric pooled at her waist. He hooked his thumbs in it and swept it and her loose pajama pants down in one easy movement. Hot palms spread over her belly, covering, heating, enticing. “Or maybe it means Jim Tyre was too much of a dumbass to inspire you.”
“Why are we talking about Jim?” She shivered, anticipating the movement of those long-fingered hands, maybe one upward to her breasts, another down to the damp heat trembling and unfurling at the top of her thighs.
“Because I want you to get that I’m not him.” His teeth scraped at her earlobe. “It’s not going to be about ten minutes in the missionary position, with a couple of quick feels as foreplay. Or maybe having you on top when the mood is adventurous.”
Shock slid over her and she turned her head. “How did you—”
“He looks the type.” His fingers moved in a soft fret over her skin, but his hands didn’t change position. “A little too straight arrow to inspire a woman like you.”
“Like me?” With her head turned toward him, she could see their shadowy reflections in the old mirror above her dresser, light glimmering over her pale nudity while he almost loomed behind her, fully clothed, his face taut with desire.