Now AJ was marrying someone else.
His gut clenched, and he almost laughed. He’d been convinced that ugly feeling was nothing more than an ulcer left from his days as a cop too caught up in his work and an inch shy of burning out. Now he recognized it for what it was.
The thought of AJ spending the rest of her life with anyone but him left him sick to his stomach.
He finished showering and dried off, really regretting that last beer. Or was it three?
“Too little, too late,” he grumbled under his breath. She was moving on. It was time he did too. His cop career was over. He and AJ were over. He needed to start fresh.
Feeling slightly more alert, Cooper strode back into the bedroom. He spotted the blond-haired man stretched out on the bed, surfing through the channels on the TV.
Cooper clutched the towel he’d been about to pitch back into the bathroom around his waist. Great.
“To what do I owe your unexpected visit?”
Eros, Greek god of love and desire, didn’t take his eyes off the small screen. He cocked his head, trying to follow the movements of the naked couple on the low-budget film. He cringed.
Cooper arched a brow. “You ordered porn?”
Eros snorted, then pushed up, turning off the television with a wave of his hand. “I came to see my favorite descendant.”
“Right,” Cooper drawled. “It’s Valentines Day. I’m sure there are about a hundred million people that need your company more than I do right now. Go play with your bow and arrow.”
“Is it just me, or am I detecting a smidge of hostility today?” Eros frowned. “Hangover, huh?”
“Yeah, and unless you’re going to,” Cooper snapped his fingers, “will it away or however you do that shit, let’s not talk about it.” He turned around, realizing the curtains were open. Cooper stalked across the carpet, his aching eyes and head thanking him the second he yanked the drapes shut.
“Why don’t you just tell her already?”
Cooper glared at him. “We’re not going there today, you got me?” It had only taken him a few visits—after Cooper figured out he really wasn’t crazy—to realize Eros didn’t tolerate wimps or ass kissers. The god came knocking when he was bored, not because he was looking to reward descendants he never expected with a better life.
Eros grinned. “Easy there, Zeus, and cool it with the castrating looks, or I’ll be willing away more than your hangover.”
Cooper snorted. The one thing he’d learned about his great-great-great-into-infinity grandfather since the ageless god had poofed into Cooper’s perfectly normal world a couple years ago, was the guy wouldn’t raise a hand to hurt his “descendants” as he liked to call them. Not unless they badmouthed Psyche. Then they were toast.
“I don’t know why you just don’t—”
“No,” Cooper growled. They’d been over this. Eros was not going to screw with AJ’s head or heart on this. No way. He’d done enough of that all on his own in the past.
Eros shrugged. “Suit yourself. But you’re fucking up here, you know that right?”
“Go bug my brother.”
Eros sighed. “He’s not nearly as much fun. Although I have to say, since you got shot, you’ve been a bit of a bore.”
Cooper let the reminder roll right off him, ignoring the stiffness that seemed to grip the muscles in his leg, following Eros’s comment. “I wasn’t such a bore last night.”
“Before or after you puked your guts out in the men’s bathroom that, by the way, didn’t even look fit enough to take a piss in. And I’ll piss just about anywhere.”
“How do you know about that?”
Eros crossed his arms. “Who do you think made sure you got back here in one piece?”
Cooper frowned, combing his memory, but coming up with nothing. He remembered the drinking. Lots and lots of drinking. And then the cab? And sleeping.
“You were a mess. And that scary dude, who you claimed had a third nipple, was ready to mop the floor with you.”
Ignoring the troublesome god, who derived far too much pleasure in the chaotic state of Cooper’s life, he headed for the closet. He paused, turned back. “I was in a fight?” Considering he hadn’t woke up with anything broken or aching aside from his head, that must have meant he won.
Cooper grinned.
With a sound of disgust Eros followed him to the closet. “You couldn’t even stand up by that point. I think you even threatened the guy with a swizzle stick.”
He would have groaned if he actually believed a word the god was saying. His weapon of choice would never have been a swizzle stick.
Eros pushed away from the closet. “I can see when I’m not being appreciated.”
“Like that’s meant anything to you before.”
“You’re a stubborn ass, you know that.”
“I think they call it genetics.”
Despite the fact that Cooper had been a total asshole for the duration of his visit, Eros grinned. “Sure you don’t want me to help you out with AJ?”
“No.”
Eros’s lips twitched.
“Don’t interfere,” Cooper warned, not trusting the mischievous glimmer in the god’s eyes.
“Or what?” In true Eros fashion, he vanished into thin air without waiting for a response.
“Eros?” Cooper snapped. “I mean it.”
The god didn’t answer.
Perfect.
His ex was getting married, and he had a bored Greek god on his hands looking to stir up trouble. If he had a lick of sense, he’d go the hell home.
DIRTY DEEDS…when good, clean fun isn’t an option.
Dirty Deeds
© 2006 Lorelei James
Available now in ebook and print from Samhain Publishing
Just once, good girl Tate Cross wants to experience a red-hot, nostrings-attached affair. She’s temporarily left her graphic artist position in Denver to settle her aunt’s estate in Spearfish, South Dakota. However, Tate receives a city mandate: she must comply with new landscaping regulations before she can resell the property. Given Tate’s precarious finances, she asks her friend, Val for advice. Val swears her brother—owner of a local construction company, and a man well-versed in purely physical relationships—might consider trading dirt work for art lessons. When Tate meets the mysterious Casanova, can she convince him to toss in a few sex lessons as well?
Nathan LeBeau believes few women look at the Native American man beneath the filthy work clothes and hard hat. He’s kept past liaisons casual—a fact his sister shared, hence Tate’s sexy proposition of wanting a hands on demonstration of his sexpertise. But in truth, he’s tired of relationships based solely on sex. His goal of proving he’s not completely hopeless in matters of the heart is second only to his dream of expanding his business.
What happens when Tate desires no-holds-barred sex and Nathan favors a good old-fashioned romance?
A battle of wills ensues.
And Tate is willing to get down and dirty to get what she wants.
Enjoy this excerpt from Dirty Deeds:
Tate blinked at the smoldering look in Nathan’s eyes. “What?” His sheer size dwarfed her. Made her feel a little afraid and completely secure at the same time.
He held her gaze. Drank his beer. Bracing his left hand above her head, he lightly traced the ridged bottom of the cold bottle across her stomach from hipbone to hipbone. “You know what.”
The muscles in her belly quivered, sending a rush of heat south. Nerves, nipples, throat tightened. “Save your breath if we’re going to talk some more. I’ve heard enough.”
“Me too. I finally got it.”
She gasped when he zigzagged the icy bottle over her navel, rolling it over her ribcage so every bone felt the stinging cold. The slow glide up and down the valley of her breasts was pure torture. He outlined her nipples with the bottle tip, then brought it back to his mouth to run his wicked tongue around rim. Not once did those heavy-lidded eyes break contact. Her
blood thickened. Her pulse raced. Tate moistened her dry lips. “Got what?”
He set the bottle on the floor. His mouth lowered, breathing cool air across her sun-warmed shoulder. “Got that you don’t want to hear my ideas on romance or a lengthy lecture on xeriscaping. That you’d rather have this.”
He kissed her. Hard. Crushing their mouths together, he angled her head, pulling her chin down with his thumb to open her mouth wholly to his assault. Hot, wet sweeps of his darting tongue. His taste sizzled. Teased. Then his greedy tongue found hers and soothed, thrust, suckled. Gentle palms framed her face. His fingers dug into her tingling scalp even as his mouth destroyed and branded her.
Tate couldn’t catch her breath. His teeth seductively scraped her bottom lip. She inhaled and felt a butterfly brush of his warm lips against hers before Nathan dove in to expertly plumb the depths of her mouth again. This kiss was softer, but no less insistent. No less potent, the sensuous way their every breath mingled and fed the desire. Tangle. Retreat. Tate’s body roared, aching for a deeper connection. Still, he merely kissed her. Gorging on her. As if he’d been too long denied her taste. Finally his hands grasped her shoulders. His thumbs slid across her damp skin to press the pulse racing in her throat.
She took that as a sign. Allowing her hands free rein, she smoothed her hands down his chest, needing to find a single patch of his bare skin to assure her this was really happening.
He braceleted her wrists and brought them by her sides. He lifted his mouth.
At the loss of contact, she whimpered, “Nathan—”
“Ssh. I may be slow on the uptake but make no mistake I’m in charge. Rule number one of this lesson.” His lips toyed with hers. “Keep your hands against the wall unless I tell you differently.” He positioned her hands palm side down, next to her thighs, taking a moment to run one wayward finger up the center of her body.
She swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“Good. Now, where were we?” he murmured.
“On the way to the bedroom?” Tate suggested. She curled her hands into fists against the tiny kernel of fear that he’d stop touching her.
“Mmm. Not yet.” His hair tickled her nose. “I’m not done kissing you.” His breath exploded over her lips and she drank him in. “Lips like these gives a man all sorts of ideas.” He drew the tip of his tongue across the seam, slowly, tiny flicks of flame urging her to surrender to the heat.
When she gasped at the erotic sensation his clever tongue dashed inside for a quick taste. Her interior muscles clenched.
“I think about this mouth.” He nibbled her top lip from corner to corner. Then he ran his tongue along the underside near her teeth. “Fantasize really.” He used the wet inside rim of his bottom lip to trace thrilling circles over her lips. “About things I’d like to do to it. Things I’d like to see this pouty mouth doing to me.”
Tate trembled against the near orgasmic experience of simple mouth on mouth. She was drowning in sensuality with every lazy sweep, every suctioning pull of his tongue. Helplessly her head fell back against the wall.
Nathan kissed her again, growling deep in his throat, “Don’t move.”
Hot open-mouthed kisses trailed down her cheek, her jaw line, the tip of her chin. His labored breathing heightened her awareness, releasing a delicious shiver down to the marrow of her softening bones.
Tate moaned. Electric shock therapy. That’s what it felt like, his moist mouth feasting on her tingling skin. Turning her head to sample him, she lost her mind in his raw taste. He swung away from her explorations with a muffled curse.
Blazing a damp path down her neck, he flicked his tongue to the beat pulsing in the hollow of her throat. Soft nibbling kisses on each side of her collarbone. The graze of his teeth. His mouth ventured lower. His fingers skillfully feathered up her wrists, her arms, her shoulders to rest on the curve of her neck.
She was afraid she’d beg for a firmer, faster contact. “Nathan—”
“Remember you telling me to have patience? Same goes, sweetheart.” Nathan’s big hands slid through her hair, gripping the short tresses. His callused fingertips casually stroked her nape. His thumbs traced every sensitive section of her ears. Then he splayed his hands wide. Gradually those thick, open palms descended to her breasts.
Her breath hitched, yet she stayed still. She ached to press the hardened tips into his too-patient hands. She craved the first intimate heated sensation of his slick mouth on her skin.
Hot puffs of air gusted over the scrap of bikini top. Her nipples pebbled to near painful points. He suckled the nubs through the silky triangular fabric with deliberate slowness, until tremors radiated from her cervix. She cursed his patience as he caressed the bottom swell of her breasts with barely-there touches of his fingertips. Another jolt of electricity arced through her blood when he captured her lips in a voracious kiss.
Panting, Tate broke away. “Please, why don’t you—” Arching into him, she rubbed against the rough fabric of his shirt, wishing it were the muscled contours of his naked chest.
“Why don’t I what?” He nuzzled the skin under her ear, sliding his jean-clad leg up and over her bare thigh. “Tell me.”
“Touch me with your mouth.”
“Where?”
She glanced down.
But Nathan latched onto her earlobe. “Imagine this,” he repeatedly flicked his tongue over the small flap of skin and sucked hard, “is your nipple, tight and hot against my wet tongue. Is this what you want?”
His mouth tormented her. His clothing rasped over her exposed skin. She wanted this man more than her next breath. “Yes.”
Nathan retreated and she moaned her disapproval. When their gazes collided, he demanded softly, “Then offer them to me. Take off your top. Now.”
His cheeks were rosy, either from desire or the stifling heat. Tate didn’t know. Didn’t care. Whatever strange magic caused her to go insane with lust around him had finally taken hold of him, too.
Thank God.
Nathan’s ardent gaze locked onto her shaking hands as she reached behind her back to untie the strings.
Her bikini top fell to the floor.
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