by Mia Sosa
Right. Exactly. “Okay, here’s an example. The guy says, ‘You’re so wet,’ because, you know, they all say that, and then my brain takes over. I ask myself, ‘Am I? Am I, really? Or are you too small? Because I have to say, you’re starting to feel like a tampon.”
He laughed. A deep, rich laugh that made her want to join him. Her first impression of him had been replaced by this one. He wasn’t broody at all. A man who laughed like that, his neck stretched to reveal his Adam’s apple and his eyes gleaming in appreciation, could never be broody. Thoughtful, yes. Broody? No.
“And I’ll never forget the first time a guy went down on me. He lapped at me like a poodle drinking from a water bowl, and I shit you not, I mimicked his lapping noises with my own tongue. I didn’t even know I was doing it until he lifted his head.”
Mark’s shoulders shook after she shared that tidbit.
“But that’s not all,” she continued. “Sometimes I forget that I’m not supposed to articulate my thoughts, or I zone out, and before I know what’s happening, the guy, who is rightfully pissed or hurt, scrambles for the door.” She removed her feet from his grasp and set them on the floor. Staring at her toes helped her avoid his gaze. “And I feel awful. No one should feel inadequate like that, but I can’t seem to help myself. I’d love to be able to lose myself in the moment, but it’s never happened.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Someday, maybe.”
She didn’t know what reaction she’d get. Sympathy? Ridicule? Whatever she got, it wouldn’t matter. This was about her, not him, because that was the point of catharsis, after all. But when she dared to peek at his face, she nearly fell back against the chair. Lust. There it was. It seeped out of his pores. Made his slack jaw sexy. Darkened his brown eyes to black. Made his big body move with each breath he took.
“Mark?”
When he finally spoke, his voice contained a hint of gravel, a rough sound that exposed how her words had affected him. “What you said just then. Wanting passion that would make you lose all thought and admitting you’ve never experienced it? That’s like waving a flag at a bull. God, there’s not much I wouldn’t do to get you under me if that’s what you craved. To get you to the point where all you could think about was me. Us. How we fit together. How we move together.”
She wanted that, too. She hadn’t realized how much until his words had mirrored her thoughts. She burned with the need, in fact. And she squirmed in a feeble attempt to disguise the heat that suffused her. But this was crazy. They’d just met. It had to be the whiskey. The craziness of the night.
Shit. Gracie. Her sister was probably searching for her now. She stood up and held on to the chair as she slipped her shoes back on. “I’ve got to rejoin my group.”
He remained seated, a telltale bulge in his crotch suggesting that standing at this juncture would be uncomfortable for him. “I’d ask for your last name, but I’m afraid if I knew it, I’d try to find you. And that’s not what this is about.” He paused. “Right?”
What she’d told him was mortifying, and despite her attraction to him, the knowledge that she’d never see him again would ensure she’d survive the embarrassment. She didn’t think long about her answer. “Right. Thanks for the talk, and have a great life, Mark.”
Her objective was simple: to infuse her stride with a dab of sexiness and a pinch of confidence. She planned to turn around and leave him with a decent memory of her, one in which she wasn’t wobbling away on three-inch stilettos. But her sister’s worried voice calling out her name rooted her to the spot.
And seconds later, Gracie skidded into her. “Jesus, Karen. You scared the shit out of me. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Still facing Mark, Karen twisted her head in her sister’s direction. “You found me. I’m fine.”
Gracie’s eyes widened when she saw that Karen wasn’t alone.
For the second time that night, a frisson of dread ran through her. Was that a hint of recognition in Gracie’s eyes? No. Fucking. Way. She’d just had one of the most embarrassing conversations ever with a man she assumed would remain a stranger. Her sister’s face, however, suggested that wasn’t the case. Karen quite literally prayed she’d read Gracie wrong.
But crap on a crostini, Gracie’s frown suddenly changed to a broad grin. “Mark? Is that you?”
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
Acknowledgments
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
About the Author
From THE SUIT’S UNDONE #2
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Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Mia Sosa
Excerpt from THE SUIT’S UNDONE #2 copyright © 2015 by Mia Sosa
Cover design b
y Elizabeth Turner
Photography by Shutterstock
Cover copyright © 2015 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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First edition: December 2015]
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ISBN: 978-1-4555-6839-0
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