She looked up, almost surprised, to see me. I'd seen her moving with single-minded focus, despite how randomly she seemed to move, so I wasn’t sure I bought that she was surprised to run into me.
"Please, forgive me for interrupting you, ma'am, but I couldn’t help but notice you and get a little curious." I gave her a genuine-looking smile, playing the part of a young gentleman.
It was almost laughable.
The surprised look was instantaneously replaced by something gracious, a small smile curving her lips. "Think nothing of it. Who, if I may ask, do I have the pleasure of conversing with?"
She held her hand out to me, the curl of her lips turning up into something like mirth. Feeling amusement curve my own mouth in response, I took her hand and brought it to my lips, kissing the back of it. Her dark eyes watched me, intent on mine.
"Luke Bable. But please, call me Luke."
Bable, technically, wasn’t my real name, but it was the name I’d taken when I’d left my old life after being recruited. It was a safe enough name to use, the few times I’d had to introduce myself to people because Luke Bable did not exist.
The pretty lady in front of me didn’t need to know all that, though.
"It's wonderful to meet you, Luke. I am Elda Abba. But you can call me Elda," she added, her smile turning into a smirk.
"Elda," I repeated, curling my tongue around the name. Her eyes grew slightly darker in fascination, and I felt almost smug. Her last name was foreign, but I couldn’t begin to think from where. "Well, Elda. I was wondering if you would mind accompanying me."
I tugged her closer by the hand, pulling it around my elbow and flattening my hand over hers on my arm. She moved without resistance.
"Should I be worried? A strange man comes up to me and asks me to accompany him. It's suspicious, no?"
I chuckled, keeping my voice low. "It’s a private party. Trust me, everyone is vetted for these things. We're both here, so you should have nothing to worry about," I said pointedly.
Her lashes lowered to cover her eyes, lips pursing. "As you say," she murmured, diplomatically.
I pulled her with me and she followed. We avoided other guests and the staff. The room was quite large and littered with guests, but I didn’t need to take her from it.
Instead, I dragged her over to a corner that left us out of view from most of the room, and the section that could still see us weren’t going to be considering dark corners unless they wanted some action for themselves. But this crowd was much too classy for something like that.
I stopped her there, turning so we were facing each other and took a quick glance around, just to be sure.
"Are we here for any reason in particular?" she sounded amused.
I decided to be blunt. "I need to frisk you."
Just about any other person would have been annoyed or insulted. No one got frisked at these parties, they were checked before they got this far. This woman was a little special, though.
"Is there any particular reason?" she murmured, looking up at me from under her lashes, but I thought her amusement only grew.
"I never saw your name on the guest list."
She gave a Gallic shrug. "Maybe I was invited last minute and my name isn’t on it."
I smiled tightly, repeating, "Just the same, Miss Abba, I'm going to need to frisk you."
"There's no reason you can't still call me Elda." She tugged her hand away from me and I didn’t stop her. "And of course, you can frisk me. For purely security reasons."
I narrowed my eyes on her. "Are you laughing at me, Elda?"
"I wouldn’t dream of it, Luke."
I was sure she was, though.
She took a step back and raised her arms from her sides, arching an eyebrow at me, her look practically daring me to go ahead.
I couldn’t help the suspicion. These parties had such tight security, even I was impressed. No one not on the list—prepared weeks in advance, should have been able to bypass it. How she got in, I didn’t know, but I didn't think asking would get me anywhere. She'd just deny, deny, deny.
Or, if she was especially good, she'd have an airtight excuse.
"You can frisk me," she told me when I didn’t immediately begin.
I moved closer, moving my hands and placing my fingertips on her wrists. There was no need, her arms were bare so there was no way she could have hidden anything there, but I ran my fingertips up her arms and to her shoulders. I followed the straps of her dress, sliding my hands down her sides and around her back, being thorough.
Of course, there was nothing on her. I also noticed the very conspicuous lack of a purse on her person. And what self-respecting woman, even in a crowd like this, wouldn’t have a purse on her? I didn’t see her coming in, so there was no way to know if she had one somewhere in the room. I'd have to leave her and go ask the guard outside the main entrance.
But I couldn’t think about that for long. I couldn’t really think of anything but slowly frisking her, all the time my eyes on hers.
When I got to her hips, I lowered into a crouch, craning my neck to keep her eyes.
"Widen your legs for me, just a bit." The words came out in a murmur, and I saw her swallow, felt her body shift under my hands as she moved to comply.
I'd looked at her body long enough to know every curve, even as I mapped them with my hands—for purely business purposes, of course—but I hadn't gotten a good look at her eyes. They were brown, like I'd guessed, but not a dull brown like I was used to seeing. Even in the slightly shadowed corner, they seemed to glimmer.
They were surprisingly familiar eyes. But right then, all I was interested in was how intently they watched me.
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Excerpt From Touchdown
Excerpt from Touchdown: A Bad Boy Sports Romance
My head was still buzzing from the weekend’s excitement on Monday morning. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that I saw a vulnerable side to Alexa Hall. She tries to appear so perfect, but it was nice to see that she’s human too.
I was excited to see her in Sociology class. I couldn’t sleep last night because I was thinking about what I would say to her.
She always sat directly in front of me, so maybe I would lean down and whisper something in her ear. It would be like an inside joke between us. Or, I could just flash her a seductive, knowing smile and watch her blush. I don’t mean to brag, but it’s too easy for me to make girls blush.
Maybe I’d just go for it and ask her out. Say something about how I want to spend another night with her that ends with both of us being conscious. I was nervous, but it was the perfect moment. I really felt like we made a special connection Saturday night.
I got to the classroom a little earlier than normal to make sure I had enough time to talk to her before the lecture started. I was feeling a bit anxious, but ready. It was now or never.
A few minutes passed. She was usually in her seat by now, with her notebook and pen out, ready to take notes. Her hair always draped over the back of her chair. Sometimes, a few locks would fall onto my knees and I would carefully brush them away with my finger.
The professor entered and began the lecture. No Alexa. I figured she must be sick. Maybe her hangover was so bad that she was still not feeling well today. I was a little concerned. I pulled out my phone and texted her.
Are you sick? Do you want me to take notes for you? We can meet up later and I’ll fill you in on what you missed in class.
I hit send. This was just as good. It would give me a perfect reason to see her again. Because it had to do with school, she would never accuse me of trying any funny business with her.
I checked my phone a few minutes later. No response. Poor girl, maybe she was really sick. Would it be weird if I showed up at her dorm later? Maybe with flowers or chicken soup and apologize to her for getting her so drunk?
I tried to take good notes, but I kept getting distracted. I was
daydreaming a hundred different scenarios where I approached Alexa and she was so thankful that I took care of her that she wanted to show her appreciation. Any possibility from a nice dinner, to a kiss, to a night in my bed—I thought of them all.
Before I knew it, class was over. I followed the herd of students exiting through the door in the back of the classroom. That’s when I saw Alexa, quickly stuffing her books in her bag. She never sits in the back row of classrooms. That’s where the slackers sit, and she was definitely not that. I called out to her, but she was already lost in the crowd.
I felt confused. I was so nice to her and I really thought she had a good time with me. She wanted to come back to my place, and when that obviously didn’t happen, she told me I was nice. That’s a lot coming from this girl. She seemed to have a general mistrust of men, and I thought I had finally broken through by proving to her that I just want to be good to her.
Now I was angry. I texted her with concern about her well-being and she didn’t even have the decency to respond? She deliberately avoided me and ignored me when I wanted to talk to her. I could have any girl I want, and she knows that. Did she hate me so much that she couldn’t even look at me?
I was right. My friends told me that she was worth pursuing, and they were totally wrong about that. She was a cold person. She only cared about herself. Of course she would, though. Girls who come from money never have interest in guys like me. I was stupid to think that this was going to work out.
I fumed the whole way back to my dorm. It was probably better this way. Before long, the school year would be over. I didn’t have time to chase girls, anyway.
I needed to focus on finishing up my degree and preparing for the professional football combine. With any luck, I would be moving, and she’d go back to her hometown, or wherever rich girls go when they graduate with a degree they’ll never use.
I was done with Alexa Hall. I had been turned down by plenty of girls in my life, and it was no big deal. I was just so surprised that she, of all people, wanted nothing to do with me.
In my anger, I typed out a text, my fingers shaking.
Sorry I made sure you got home safely the other night. I didn’t think it would upset you this much. Next time, I’ll leave you on the street, puking your guts out.
My finger hovered over the send button before I quickly deleted it. I didn’t need to make things worse than they already were. I decided to take a page from Alexa’s book and just ignore her too. I’ve been dumped many times for doing the wrong thing with girls. This was just the first time I was ever rejected for doing the right thing.
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Excerpt From Tempting Me
Excerpt from Tempting Me: A Bad Boy Romance
“I’m a Yoga instructor”
I didn’t ask her what she did, but I’m glad she shared. I was on the fence about going home with her. But now that I know she spends her days working on her body and training it to stretch in weird and wonderful ways, I am sold.
Whiskey alone isn’t cutting it after a day like today. An evening of fun with a limber and eager blonde is exactly what I need to get back on my game. I close out the tab and lead her out onto the street. These kinds of after hours’ bars exist for hook-ups.
“Is your place close?” I ask.
“Just three blocks from here.”
“Great; we’ll walk.”
This hook-up is just what the doctor ordered. Not just because I’m not my usual charming self when I don’t get laid everyday but because I need to get that smoking brunette out of my head, and the best way I know to shake trouble is to have a bout of no holds-barred sex with a hot woman who is ready, willing, and able.
Yoga girl is all of the above. And it doesn’t matter that I can’t remember her name as long as it isn’t Aria.
The night air feels good and she’s up for walking, which I’m thankful for. I like a clear head both in myself, and the woman I’m going to have sex with. She lives in a walk-up that is, in fact, exactly three blocks from the bar. She is all over me the moment we enter the stairwell. She strokes my growing erection over my jeans, with almost too much enthusiasm.
“Whoa there, let’s slow this down,” I tell her.
The stairwell is damp and smells rank. I can hear the infamous New York rats scurrying across the cement landing we are on. I hope the state of the stairs is not a sign of things to come in her apartment.
“I don’t want to slow down,” she whines but she does, nonetheless, take her hand off my crotch.
We arrive at her door and she starts pawing at me again. I resist the urge to push her off of me. I may have been premature in believing this is what I need tonight. But I’m here, and she’s hot for me. It would be a shame to let the whole evening go to waste.
“Ooh, your muscles are so big,” she coos in my ear.
If I had a dollar for every time a girl told me that, I wouldn’t need to strip anymore.
“That’s right baby. Open the door and you can feel them for yourself.”
I really want to get out of the hallway and into her apartment. This building is like something from a novel, documenting the plight of immigrants in the 1940s.
She doesn’t turn any lights on but leads me straight to her bedroom. In one swift movement, her little black dress is off and on the floor. She has nothing on underneath and I am at full attention.
“What’s taking you so long?” She makes a move for my jeans.
“Take it easy, baby.” Did she ever tell me her name?
She crawls up onto the bed and faces me. She crosses her arms under her jutting breasts and props them up high to emphasize her cleavage.
“Don’t make me wait anymore,” she pouts.
I want her to stop talking, but I get her point. I don’t want to wait anymore either.
I join her on the bed and gently push her on to her back. I start at her high perky breasts and slowly explore my way down her flat stomach. She writhes and moans with abandon beneath me.
“Go down on me, go down on me. I need to come.”
This girl is ripe for the picking, but I’m not even close to ready to bring her to climax. I slow my route to her slit, and cup her breasts. Her nipples are as hard and peaked as the Himalayas and I pinch them with just enough pressure to make her yelp for more. She flings one of her long toned legs behind her head and rubs her wet pussy against my chest. With such easy access being granted, I have no choice but to go down and give her the release she has been begging for. She moans and yells so loud, I fear a neighbor will call the police. I hold her leg in place behind her head and roll on a condom with one hand and then thrust into her.
I feel my own release coming and with it, my misgivings over the exchange with Aria begin disappearing. What does it matter in the end? I will never see her again and under no circumstances will I ever open myself up like that to another woman.
I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding a staccato drumbeat against my ribs. I had that damn recurring dream again. Correct that; I had that damn recurring nightmare again. It’s always the same. I wake up in the dingy small bedroom of my youth; the twin bed, film and band posters on the wall, stained ceiling. My mom and dad’s trailer, the only home I knew for the first seventeen years of my life. In the nightmare, I am right back there and the last five years have all been a fantasy. I’m still pale, skinny, broke, and most of all, clueless about girls.
I take in the unfamiliar surroundings, and breathe a sigh of relief that it’s not the trailer. Then I curse myself for not going home after the evening’s entertainment. Once sex was over and yoga girl was fast asleep in sexed-out bliss, I should have hit the road. But uncharacteristically, I fell asleep. Now, here I am, still in her bed, and she has her legs wrapped around me so tightly that it’s like waking up with a boa constrictor using me as a pillow.
Despite my desire to escape before she wakes up, morning wood is
getting the better of me. Especially when I can’t help but recall how she flung her leg behind her head so I could have better access to her damp entrance when I went down on her. So yeah, last night was hot, but not so hot that I don’t regret staying the night.
She is starting to stir, which means it’s time to make my escape. She rolls onto her back and I allow myself a last appreciative look at her toned body before I jump out of bed.
Fortune favors me this morning and I am dressed and out of the bedroom without the yoga superstar waking up. Maybe it wasn’t so terrible that I spent the night here after all. I leave her a short but sweet note on the entry table, to thank her for an unforgettable experience. And I am out of there. If I remember our walk here last night correctly, I am only a couple of blocks from my favorite coffee shop and then two more blocks from my own apartment.
If you told me when I was seventeen and still living in my parent’s trailer that I would have a glass-walled steam shower in an apartment in Manhattan, I wouldn’t have believed it. My parents and I shared a bathroom and by the time I got my turn, there was no hot water left and never any water pressure.
If someone told me that my morning routine would include shaving and buffing my entire body, and I mean absolutely every part of my body, I would think the person completely insane. But things change, and for the better. My body is my business now and I have to take care of every aspect of it.
I love my apartment and I love that it is just me living here. It is a one bedroom, and has an open floor plan. The space isn’t huge, but it’s not like I will need a larger place. I intend to stay single and this place suits me perfectly.
I never bring women back to my place. I don’t care that it would only be for a night. This is my sanctuary and I don’t need some desperate chick showing up at my door looking for seconds, or worse, a relationship. I’m not saying that no one from the club or bar has managed to track me down, but I like to keep it difficult.
Her Protection: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Omerta Series Book 2) Page 30