A sweet little old lady drags freelance writer Reed Harris into a world of dark intrigue. Not only does Reed have merciless killers chasing her heels, but one ruthless male pursuing her heart. Spurred on by a lifelong dream of becoming an investigative reporter, Reed casts aside caution to help Bain solve a deadly mystery. Unfortunately, she has no idea what she’s in for. It’ll take more than her sharp wits and a nail file to get her out of it.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Dirty Little Lies:
Bain had always been a very dominant lover. That had been one of the reasons why she’d never been able to move on. It was as if he knew her mind as well as her body. His allure wasn’t so much about what he did physically to her body as what he said, how he looked at her, how he made her feel inside.
She could see already that he hadn’t lost that gift. His hooded eyes spoke to her very soul, both promising her most secret desires, and demanding her full surrender. Submission.
“Undress for me, baby.”
A quiver of delight shook her entire body. His gaze was like a literal touch. Hot. Scorching. A brand. She peeled off her shirt first, enjoying the dangerous glimmer in Bain’s eyes. The warmth of her mounting desire churned in her belly and gathered between her legs.
Next came her bra. She kept her eyes focused on his as she unclipped the clasp and let the straps slide down her arms. The garment fell away, and she cupped her hands over her tight nipples, thrilling in the sweet friction.
“Oh, yes. Play with them.” Perched on the edge of the mattress, Bain shifted, running his flattened hand over the visible bulge in his pants. “Look what you do to me.”
There could be no doubt what she was doing to him. Just like there could be no doubt what his I’m-going-to-eat-you-alive expression was doing to her. It was sheer agony, this game they played. They toyed with each other, delaying release until they were both clutching each other in trembling arms, their bodies slick with sweat.
It was only the beginning. Her body anticipated the delights sure to come.
After driving herself nearly crazy by pinching her nipples and rolling them between her fingers, she was finally granted permission to remove the rest of her clothing. Within moments, she stood before Bain’s hungry eyes, nude, vulnerable.
Bain motioned for her to come closer. Still seated, he gripped her hips between his hands and dragged his tongue down her torso, from the center of her breastbone to her belly button.
Reed’s knees were quaking. She was going to fall to the floor any minute now. She just knew it. She grabbed his shoulders and widened her stance.
Of course, the change in position opened up new opportunities to Bain, ones he didn’t hesitate to take advantage of. He slid a hand between her legs and teased her slick labia with a fingertip.
Quickly losing herself in the urgent need pounding through her body, Reed let her head fall back and moaned. Bain’s mouth devoured her nipples. His hand possessed her pussy, stroking, taking, claiming. She was his. She had always been his.
With hands, mouth and body, he turned her around until she was lying on the bed, legs dangling over the edge of the mattress. Through blurry eyes, she watched him undress.
That glorious body. Muscle and sinew. Fully masculine. Powerful. Her pussy clenched around aching emptiness.
“Please, I can’t wait much longer.”
“I won’t make you suffer too long. This time. I promise.” Bain lowered to his knees and lifted her legs, setting one on each shoulder. Then, being cruel beyond words, he used his tongue, lips and fingers to torture her, driving her to the brink of ecstasy once, twice, three times, but stopping no more than a second before she’d found release.
“How I love the way you taste. How your body responds to my touch.” He climbed up onto the bed, easing her into position farther up the mattress with gentle hands. “We’re perfect for each other, don’t you agree?”
Did she ever.
He wedged his hips between her parted thighs and teased her nether lips with the head of his cock, spreading slick juices down over her perineum and up over her clit. “We fit together in every way. Body. Mind. Soul.”
His body was hard and hot over top of her. Rigid, with a latent strength she craved to experience more fully. She ran her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, down his back. His muscles rippled beneath satiny skin as he levered himself lower to kiss her.
She could taste herself on his lips, tongue. The smooth, sweet flavor added yet another sensation to an already overwhelming mix. She wanted release. No, she needed release. Whimpering, she begged into their joined mouths, “Bain, please.”
He broke the kiss. “Soon, baby. You’re not ready yet.”
She was about to combust. Not ready? Could a girl get any readier?
He set about proving that indeed, a girl could.
She stands for everything he despises. Only, the minute they meet, she becomes everything he desires.
Reilly’s Promise
© 2007 Christyne Butler
Former US Marine turned private investigator, Reilly Murdock is no stranger to high society. Thanks to his malevolent millionaire stepfather, he turned his back on that elite world years ago. But when a friend calls in a favor he’s honor bound to repay, Reilly finds himself stuck as glorified babysitter to a spoiled heiress with secrets of her own.
Since her father’s sudden death six months ago, Cassandra Van Winter has been trying to conceal her family’s millions of dollars of debt. She can’t afford to let anyone near enough to discover the charade she’s maintaining. At first, the discovery of a multi-million-dollar necklace seemed like the answer to her prayers, but that was before the “accidents” started.
Now, she takes one look at the six feet of muscle her mother’s hired to protect her, and curses her body for coming back to life. As the “accidents” increase and danger comes closer, Reilly gets closer too. Before long it’s not just her life in danger, but her heart.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Reilly’s Promise:
“Cassandra darling, why don’t you have a seat?” Margaret Van Winter waved a graceful hand toward a low sofa. “And there’s no such thing as an ex-Marine.”
Reilly’s attention darted to the older woman, dressed head to toe in white, except for a blue and red scarf around her neck. Here was another surprise. Margaret Van Winter was nothing he expected a woman of her wealth and status to be. Her smile was genuine, her handshake warm and firm when they met.
How would a lady like her know Marines hated to be called “ex”?
“What did you say, Mother?”
Margaret turned back to her daughter. “I said most men who’ve served in the Marine Corps prefer to call themselves ‘former Marines’. They never consider themselves out of the Corps. ‘Once a Marine, Always a Marine.’ Isn’t that right, Mr. Murdock?”
She smiled as she looked his way again, and the muscles in his neck relaxed. With her silvery hair cut short and few lines on her face, Margaret Van Winter wore her age with grace and beauty. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Former Marine, ex-Marine,” Cassandra said. “I don’t care what he’s called or what he was. I’ll tell you what he isn’t. He isn’t my bodyguard.”
“Yes, dear, he is,” Margaret countered.
“How am I going to run my shop with John Wayne here snapping at my heels?” Cassandra asked.
Reilly crossed his arms over his chest. John Wayne, huh? Well, he guessed there were worse things than being compared to his boyhood hero.
“Cassandra, Mr. Murdock is a professional. This is what he does for a living. And he isn’t only your bodyguard. He’s going to be investigating this situation—”
Her daughter’s rigid posture would’ve made a drill sergeant proud. “There is no situation.”
“Darling, I’m worried. Too many odd things have happened since you got back from your trip to Europe.”
Reilly walked to the edge of the muted Oriental carpet that defined the sitting area. “What tr
ip?”
Cassandra whirled around.
Damn, those eyes again.
The varying shades of green, changing from a light aqua to the darkest jade, reminded him of the ocean he’d seen while on an island in the Caribbean. Of course, he’d been looking through a scope of a high-powered assault rifle most of the time.
“Excuse me?” she said.
“When did you go to Europe? Did you travel alone and why?”
“August, yes.” Cassandra snapped out her one-word answers. “And none of your damn business!”
“Cassandra Margaret!”
Reilly hid a grin as the beautiful creature in front of him attempted to rein in her temper by pressing her lips into a thin line. Her efforts did little to diminish the heat in her eyes or the bright pink tint on her cheeks.
Okay, she was hot. He could admit that. And after reading the information Digger had provided, he did see it pointing in the direction of something strange going on in the lady’s life, but that still didn’t mean he wanted to be here.
“I need a drink.” Cassandra took a step around him and headed for the floor-to-ceiling bookcases on the far wall. “Mother?”
“No, thank you, dear. Would you like something, Mr. Murdock?”
Glancing over his shoulder, Reilly saw Cassandra’s hand still over the crystal decanters. “Whatever Miss Van Winter is having is fine with me. And please, call me Reilly.”
“Are you sure you won’t sit down?” Margaret asked with a smile. “I think we may be in for a long siege.”
Reilly returned her smile and walked to the sofa. He gripped his knee and sat, praying it wouldn’t give out. Grateful to find the throbbing pain absent for the moment, he looked up to a glass half filled with ice and a smoky brown liquid. “Thank you.”
Whiskey, he guessed. He was surprised by Cassandra’s choice of liquor, but perhaps this afternoon’s narrow escape was bothering her more than she was willing to admit. And with good reason.
“Will you tell me about your trip now?” he asked.
“Mr. Murdock, I don’t believe we’ve established your need to know yet.” Cassandra moved to the other side of the coffee table.
Reilly reined in his temper, reminding himself that the society princess had only found out a little over an hour ago she had a bodyguard. “Look, I can find out what happened with or without your help. This’ll go a lot better if you work with me.”
Dropping into the chair next to her mother, Cassandra took a sip of her drink. She ignored him and turned to her mother. “Mom, this is crazy.”
“No, it’s not.” Margaret covered her daughter’s hand with her own. “What’s going on is crazy, and you have to admit it. Please, let him help you.”
“You don’t know this man from Adam.” Cassandra waved her glass in his direction. “Where did he come from? How did you find him? Can you trust him?”
Okay, that hurt.
Reilly’s fingers tightened on his glass. Damn, he’d give anything to be back in bed with more than just this splash of booze. What he wanted was another bottle of Tequila. Correction, a bottle of 100 proof Mexican Blue Agave Tequila Reposado. None of that cheapo stuff for him again. If he was going to get good and drunk, he might as well splurge for the best of the best.
The bed didn’t matter.
His bed.
Her bed.
Whoa, scratch that.
Reilly eyed the glass in his hand. It wasn’t a bottle, but it would do. He swirled the contents once before lifting it to his lips, emptying it in one mouthful. He braced for the slow burn of expensive booze, so the taste of sweetened tea on his tongue was a shock.
Lowering the glass, he caught Cassandra’s arched brow of triumph, and he offered a small salute in return. Score one for the lady.
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