“That you’re bad for me. That if I get involved with you it will destroy me.”
He saw something flash across her face before her expression shuttered. Hurt? Longing?
“Then leave me alone.”
He should. He should turn around and head back into his house, locking the door on her and his desire.
“I can’t. I can’t stop. You get to me, and I’m not strong enough to walk away.”
A soft cry escaped her just before his mouth came down, claiming hers.
God, she tasted like fresh honey. His tongue slipped inside to sweep along hers, delving into her warmth as his hand came up and tangled in her hair. He wanted closer, wanted to surround himself with her scent, her body, and push all of the doubt from his mind.
Everett came out of his fog of desire when Callie shoved at his chest, turning her head away from him. She was breathing hard, panting.
“I am not a plaything. You keep saying that I’m not what you’re looking for, but the truth is, I wasn’t looking for you either. You popped into my life and sought me out. Then you learned something you don’t like about me, and suddenly I’m this toxic thing you have to resist?” She pushed him hard, and he backed off. Every word was true, and it made him feel like an asshole.
Because he was acting like one.
“I’ve got a newsflash for you. Being self-righteous and judgmental doesn’t make you a good person. You don’t know me or what I’ve gone through, and yes, I’ve made some bad choices, but they were mine. I’ve taken responsibility for my addiction and changed. And that’s all anyone can do, but I don’t need you telling me you want me or that you’re better than me.”
In the distance, someone began calling her name, and Callie turned without saying anything else.
He couldn’t let her go, not with that statement hanging between them. In three strides he was behind her, his hand on her arm. Callie stopped but didn’t turn. Everett moved closer until the top of her head sat just under his chin; then he gently pulled her unruly curls back over her shoulder. She was still as a statue, even when he leaned down to whisper against her ear.
“You’re right about everything, and I’m sorry. I’m a self-righteous prick, but I don’t think I’m better than you. You just scare the hell out of me.” Everett was so tempted to kiss the pulse point below her ear. “I never wanted to make you feel less-than, Callie, and hurting you is the last thing I want to do.”
Seconds ticked by, and she said nothing. He was still scared shitless, but he couldn’t ignore this thing between them. Distance and avoidance hadn’t made his desire for her go away, hadn’t lessened his infatuation, and her passionate speech only made him want to keep pushing, peeling back her layers until he could see right into her soul.
And just when he was sure he’d blown it, she shocked the hell out of him.
“What’s the first thing?”
An Excerpt from
WILD WITH YOU
Independence Falls Book Four
by Sara Jane Stone
One night with a hero is just what she needs. But more spells trouble . . .
Dr. Katherine “Kat” Arnold left Oregon and never looked back at the town that failed her as a child. But when a new patient from Independence Falls joins her clinical trial, she returns determined to show everyone in her hometown how she has thrived—including her high school crush, Brody Summers.
Brody parked his willpower in the hall and led the blond doctor through the door marked Pool. If his brothers saw him now they would laugh their asses off. He’d driven up to Portland to save two families—the stranded hikers and his own. Instead, he was taking an emergency room doctor who probably sent the men of New York City racing to the ER with a long list of fake ailments for a swim. But he couldn’t walk away.
Beyond her beautiful face, he’d witnessed the relief in her eyes when she’d learned that the kid was safe. One look at her and something inside him had snapped. For the past few months he’d navigated a boatload of stress through choppy waters. And heck, he wanted a break.
His grip on her hand tightened, his mind focused on the here and now. The feel of her soft skin. The sound of her breathing, which quickened as they moved through each door. Every sound she made suggested her desire matched his, poised to spiral out of control.
A few paces into the warm and thankfully empty pool room, he turned to face her. Her breath caught as he stared into her eyes. Hesitation? Heck, maybe she’d read his mind and knew he wanted to bypass the pool, taking her straight to his bed.
“Brody, if you’re having second thoughts, we can head back into the hall and call it a night. But if you want to stay and, um, celebrate, I promise I won’t take advantage of you in your underwear.” She spoke in a low tone that left part of his body hoping he could convince Little Miss Perfect to break her word.
“And if I can’t make the same promise?” he challenged. The past twenty-four hours—heck, the past few months—had chipped away at his calm logic and left him emotionally rung out. He felt as if he was standing on the edge of wild.
“That won’t be a problem.”
The way she said those words—she might as well have wrapped her hand around his dick.
But instead of reaching for the part of his body threatening to wage a war against what remained of his common sense, she released his hand. “Wait here.”
Brody watched her move toward a metal closet, taking in the pool room’s layout. A line of lounge chairs filled the space to their left. Along the wall to the right stood a table stacked with towels. Next to the pile, a shower and a sign that clearly stated all guests swam at their own risk. Brody glanced at the long narrow pool that ran the length of the room. The stairs leading to the shallow end stood directly in front of him. And in the corner opposite the entrance sat a hot tub, steam rising from the swirling water.
He bit back a low growl as images filled his mind. Kat stripping off her clothes and joining him in the steaming water . . .
“Where are you going?” he asked, returning his attention to the present as she opened the door. She rummaged for a moment and turned around, triumphant.
“To find this.” She held up a sign that read POOL CLOSED.
Her heels clicked against the cement pool deck as she headed to the door. Poking her head out, she scanned the hall and then slipped the sign into place.
“Just in case someone else wants to celebrate,” she said.
“You know all the tricks,” he murmured. “Have you done this before?”
“When I was a teenager, I occasionally snuck into places I wasn’t supposed to be. I got caught once and learned my lesson. Most people obey a Closed sign.”
She settled onto a lounge chair. Planting her palms on the cushion, she leaned back and crossed the long legs he’d admired earlier while lying at her feet. Her skirt slid up her thighs, stopping short of offering a peekaboo glance underneath.
“You’re just going to sit there and watch?”
“I can close my eyes while you undress if you’re feeling shy. But I can’t promise I won’t peek.”
He tried to remember the last time a woman had toyed with him and came up blank. Back home, he might as well have had the word “serious” tattooed on his forehead. Women looked at him and saw long-term. And yeah, he liked being that guy, the one people knew they could count on. When it came to his family, he wouldn’t have it any other way. But sometimes—like when he wanted a chance to explore a beautiful blonde’s long legs without worrying about the long-term picture—it was just plain lonely.
“I’m not shy,” he said.
“Then lose the clothes, Brody.”
He pulled his Moore Timber T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Stealing a glance at his audience, he saw her green eyes widen. She uncrossed her legs, drawing his attention to the smooth skin of her thighs. His gaze traveled up her body, leaving him wondering what lie beneath her silky shirt.
“I hope you’re not shy,” he said, his voi
ce low and wanting, a solid reflection of how he felt. “Because I want to watch.”
An Excerpt from
THE DEVILISH MR. DANVERS
The Rakes of Fallow Hall Series
by Vivienne Lorret
When Hedley Sinclair inherits Greyson Park, she finally has a chance at a real life. The only person standing in her way is Rafe Danvers—her handsome neighbor who also claims ownership over the crumbling estate. Rafe is determined to take back what’s his—even if it means being a bit devilish. Knowing the stipulations of her inheritance, he decides to find her a husband. The only problem is, he can’t seem to stop seducing her. In fact, he can’t seem to stop falling in love with her.
“A young woman in society usually flirts when given the opportunity.”
How was she supposed to flirt when she could barely think? He stood close enough that she could feel the alluring heat rising from his body. She drew in a breath in an effort to think of a response. When she did, however, her nostrils filled with a pleasant scent that only made her want to draw in another breath. It was his fragrance. From their previous encounter, she recognized the woodsy essence and a trace of sweet smoke.
Hedley caught herself rocking onto the balls of her feet to get closer, but then quickly fell back onto her heels. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I am not in society. Nor am I likely to be. Therefore, I have no reason to flirt.”
“You don’t need a reason.” He leaned in, his voice low. The angular cut of his side-whiskers seemed to direct her gaze toward his mouth. “Flirting is a skill. You use it to get what you want.”
Hedley forgot why she’d come here . . . to get what you want. . .
The more she stared at Rafe’s mouth, the heavier her eyelids seemed to weigh. Why was she suddenly so tired? Perhaps it was too early to pay a call. Or perhaps it was because he stood so close that his warmth blanketed her. It would take only a single step to rest her head against his shoulder. “Like a type of currency used in society?”
“An astute observation.” He grinned.
She was definitely out of her element. The least she could do was try to keep her wits about her. “Then, I should assume that you want something from me.”
He moved closer, but she dared not imagine that he was under the same trance. No, he was far too skilled in the ways of society for that.
Even so, the curve of his knuckles brushed her cheek. “What shade of pink do you suppose this is?”
“And that was a terrible change of topic.” Believing that he was speaking of one of the colored-glass vases in the cabinet, she looked them over. She found deep red, the color of merlot, a blue vase, bright and clear as a summer sky, and daffodil yellow, among other hues. “Besides, I see no pink.”
“No, this color. Here.” His thumb caressed her cheek, his fingers settling beneath her jaw.
Was it possible for a man to have eyelashes that looked as if they were smudged with soot, all soft and curled up at the ends? It didn’t seem possible to her. Yet, that’s exactly what she saw as he studied her. Knowing that her skin had betrayed her thoughts in a blush should make her want to shy away. Yet, she’d gone too long without being noticed to feel an ounce of shame. Instead, she reveled in the attentiveness of his gaze, the nearness and warmth of his body, and the contact of his flesh on hers—even if it was a false show for him.
While not entirely certain that he expected her to answer, she indulged him. “Some roses are pink.”
“True.” He tilted her chin. Four thin, horizontal lines appeared above the bridge of his nose as if he truly were studying her. “Though when I think of rosy pink, it is darker, redder, than this.”
She tasted his breath on her lips. Other than their clumsy spill on the ice, this was the closest she’d ever been to a man. Heat poured from his body, sweeping over her, compelling her to draw nearer to the source. She couldn’t help it.
“Berries are sometimes pink,” she whispered, wondering if he could feel her breath as well.
He licked his lips. “Only unripe berries are pink, and you are a most decidedly ripe fruit, sweeting.”
The tone of his voice changed ever so slightly. The silky timbre turned deeper, indulgent, like slipping into a pair of warm velvet slippers.
She wanted to sink into that sound. “Pink carnations.”
“Yes. That’s it.” His hand slipped away. “A carnation pink blush, and berry-stained lips.”
Missing the contact, her chin tilted of its own accord. His gaze slowly dipped to her mouth. Whatever this game was, she wanted it to continue. “Is this a lesson in flirting or is the color of actual importance?”
Abruptly, he turned from her and headed toward a tasseled bell-pull on the far wall. It was almost as if he suddenly wanted to put as much distance between them as possible.
She had her answer. He was only flirting in order to gain something. The only thing she possessed that Rafe Danvers wanted, however, was not for sale. No matter how tempting the currency, she would not give him Greyson Park.
An Excerpt from
NEED ME
A Broke and Beautiful Novel
by Tessa Bailey
In the second Broke and Beautiful novel, college student Honey Perribow can’t stop fantasizing about her sexy, young English professor, Ben Dawson . . . and forbidden love has never been so hot.
When choosing the perfect panties for a seduction, one couldn’t be too selective. Careful consideration had to be given to the cut, the style, and, most importantly, the almighty color. Honey Perribow rifled through her underwear drawer from her position on the rug, picking up and discarding undies with the efficiency required of premed students the world over. Red silk was a little too on the nose. It didn’t give the guy any credit. Blue? Hinted at mood swings. Yellow with a strawberry pattern . . . what am I, five?
There was no help for her. She had to call in the big guns. “Roxy!”
Her roommate of one month propped a hip on the inside of Honey’s door a moment later, biting into a piece of toast. “Did you lose your indoor voice in that pile of underpants?”
“What color would you wear if you wanted to seduce your English teacher?”
The toast paused halfway to Roxy’s mouth. “Aw, shit. Today is the day?”
Honey took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ve finally worked up the nerve. No more hiding under my hoodie in the back row. Professor Dawson is going down to Honey town.”
“How long have you been waiting to say that?”
“A while. How was my delivery?”
“Not too shabby.” Roxy shoved the remainder of the toast in her mouth and plopped down onto the floor, cross-legged, eyeballing the mountain of panties. In the month since they’d become roommates in one of the oddest interview processes of all time, they’d formed a friendship that sometimes seemed as if they were feeling their way in the dark. Honey could still sense some hesitancy on Roxy’s part to open up completely, but Roxy’s new boyfriend, Louis, seemed to be unlocking a new part of her. Considering Roxy had hidden out in her room at the outset, commiserating over panties was a vast improvement. “All right. So, we know he’s studious. He teaches Intro to Literary Theory. How does he dress?”
Honey hid her swoon by turning and pressing her face into the rug. “He has this tweed jacket. It’s like a greenish-brown, which should be ugly, but it looks so dang amazing on him. If I got up close, I bet it would smell like honest-to-goodness man mixed up with old book leather. He keeps candy in the pockets, too. I can’t tell from the back of the room which kind of candy he always pops into his mouth, but if I had to guess, I’d say butterscotch. So the jacket might have a hint of butterscotch smell going on, too.”
“Are you telling me tweed inspired all that?”
“It’s crazy, right? I know it. I can hear myself.” Honey rolled back over and stared up at the ceiling. In the few weeks since she’d started courses at Columbia University, Professor Dawson had wiggled his way under her skin like a splinter from a
yellow poplar tree. No one back home in Bloomfield, Kentucky, would ever have accused her of being shy. In fact, they would have laughed over the very suggestion. But the day she’d walked into the lecture hall and seen Professor Dawson, quietly gorgeous, in his tweed jacket and black-rimmed glasses, a mixture of confidence and nerves, she’d slunk into the back row like a scolded basset hound.
Starting today, she would seduce Professor Dawson. Just the thought of it raised goose bumps all over her arms. From the back of the room, he was a movie star. Like something she watched on a screen from a safe distance. What would he be like up close?
“If you rub your thighs together any harder,” Roxy broke into her thoughts, “this pile of panties is going to turn into a bonfire.”
COPYRIGHT
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from Desire Me More copyright © 2015 by Tiffany Clare.
Excerpt from Bad for Me copyright © 2015 by Codi Gary.
Excerpt from Wild With You copyright © 2015 by Sara Jane Stone.
Excerpt from The Devilish Mr. Danvers copyright © 2015 by Vivienne Lorret.
Excerpt from Need Me copyright © 2015 by Tessa Bailey.
DESIRE ME NOW. Copyright © 2015 by Tiffany Clare. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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