Steamy: A Romance Anthology That Sizzles

by Johnson, Cat

  “So, you’re going to give up?” I put my hand to his cheek. “Dreams can change, you know.”

  “Are you going to get philosophical on me? That whole when one door closes, one door opens kind of shit?” His shoulders slumped.

  “No.” I didn’t want to make him feel bad about the choices he’d made. All I wanted in that moment was to make him feel good. I’d offered myself to him when I was sixteen years old, and he turned me down. Back then, I didn’t know much about love or sex or the kind of things that went on between a man and a woman. But I knew I wanted him. In the years we’d been apart, the insatiable need had grown and now I craved his touch like the parched fields around us begged for rain.

  “Make love to me, Ryder.”

  He hesitated, uncertainty hovering between us. I shifted my gaze to his chest, the shame of being turned down again too much to handle.

  Then he smoothed the hair back from my cheek. His finger nudged my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. The need in his eyes matched my own.

  His mouth parted, his tongue darting out to trace a line along his bottom lip. “Are you sure?”

  The damn butterflies took flight, fluttering from my stomach to beat their soft wings against every part of my body.

  At my nod, Ryder took control. He leaned back on the blanket, pulling me down onto him as his hands skimmed under my shirt. Everywhere his fingertips touched branded my skin.

  Our lips met, parted, fused together again. I poured everything into our kiss. He took it deeper, sliding his tongue against mine, making me forget the years we’d spent apart. The only thing that mattered was this moment, this man.

  He’d held my heart in his hands long before I knew what love meant. Now he took it. With every touch of his lips against mine, he confirmed what I’d known all along. There would never be anyone else for me besides Ryder. We were made for each other.

  His hand skimmed over my ribs. I ground my hips against him, aching for him to slide it lower.

  Sensing my need, he undid my button. I shimmied out of my jeans and kicked them to the side. My focus zeroed in on the way his fingertip traced a slow line past the waistband of my panties.

  We’d wasted so much time. Time we could have spent exploring each other’s bodies, loving each other the way I hoped he was about to love me.

  A low groan vibrated through his chest as he slid a finger lower still. “Damn, Morgan. You’re so fucking wet.”

  I shifted against him, the friction between us driving me wild. “For you, Ryder. It’s always been you.”

  * * *

  Ryder

  I wasn’t going to last long. Not with Morgan spread out in front of me, begging me to take her. I’d wanted her since the first time I heard her sing. Been waiting for her for what seemed like a lifetime. I wanted to savor each touch, take it nice and slow. Show her with my body all the things I’d never been able to put into words.

  A loud honk came from my left.

  “What was that?” Morgan lifted her head.

  I refused to be cock-blocked by a goose. Scrambling to my feet, I waved my arms in front of me and rushed toward the noise. Goose flapped his wings then sailed to the fifty-yard line.

  Morgan laughed as I walked back to the blanket.

  “Where were we?” I asked.

  “I think I was about to do this.” She popped my button loose. Her fingers worked my jeans over my hips, then slid them lower, stopping when she reached my knee.

  Her light touch skimmed over my skin. I reached for her, wanting to pull her attention away from my scar.

  “Does it still hurt?” Her finger traced the line of puckered skin.

  “No.” I clasped my hands behind my head, watching her study what was left of my knee.

  “I reached out to you when it happened.” She leaned down, kissing the raised scar. “Why didn’t you ever call me back?”

  I closed my eyes, wishing her kisses held enough magic to heal all my wounds. She didn’t get it. “You were on your way up. I wasn’t about to pull you back down with me.”

  She stopped, her lips hovering over my skin. “Is that what you think?”

  I opened my eyes to look at her. “What?”

  “Ryder, I love you. I’ve always loved you. I don’t care if you’re the NFL’s next golden boy or spend the rest of your life slinging burgers.”

  The truth hung between us. I’d been so stupid. So caught up in what I’d lost that I hadn’t realized how much I’d had to gain.

  “I love you, too. I’m so sorry.”

  “Shh. It’s all going to be okay now.” She wrapped her hands around my cock, and I went from painfully hard to a rigid rod of steel with just one touch.

  Her shirt had to go. I needed to feel her, skin-to-skin. We’d come this far, I didn’t want there to be any more barriers between us. She helped me ease her T-shirt over her head, then laid back on the blanket, a vision of perfection even more beautiful than the one I’d imagined in the long, lonely nights we’d spent apart.

  A condom. Dammit. I reached for my jeans.

  Morgan unrolled it while I skimmed my palms over her breasts, trying to decide which perfect nipple to take into my mouth first.

  Didn’t matter. Before the sun came up, I planned to worship them equally. She deserved that kind of attention.

  But Morgan had other plans. She tugged me into a seated position and wrapped her legs around my hips. With her arms resting on my shoulders, she eased onto me. The feel of her tight heat surrounding me nearly sent me over the edge. I cupped her ass with my hands, making her slow down. Once I was seated deep inside her, the walls of her clenching around me, I put my hands on her hips.

  Her breasts mashed against my chest as we moved together. I ran my tongue along her neck and nibbled on her earlobe. The taste of salt lingered on her skin, mixing with something that was undeniably Morgan.

  Her head rolled back, and I focused on the spot where her heartbeat pulsed at the base of her throat. Her hips slid up and down, driving me insane. Then she pitched forward, a long low moan rising from her chest. Her nipples rubbed against me, her fingers gripped my shoulders. I couldn’t hold back. We climaxed together, hurtling toward a joint release that shook me to my core.

  Afterward, Morgan sprawled over me, our limbs tangled together, both of us breathless. I ran a fingertip down her spine, already wondering how soon we could do it again. I’d had sex plenty of times. But I’d never made love with a woman. Never been as invested emotionally as I was with her.

  She traced small circles on my chest. “I hate to do this, but I’d better get home before my mom realizes I’m gone.”

  “Of course.” I wrapped my hand around hers and gave it a squeeze. “I don’t know how this changes things, but I don’t want to lose you again. Now that we found our way back to each other…”

  “Me too.” Two little words eased my fears. We’d figure out a way to be together. “I’m excited about the song we came up with. Can you be there when I play it for the label exec? He’s stopping by Friday afternoon.”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  I dropped Morgan off just as the dawn’s early light kissed the eastern horizon. I didn’t want the night to end, but my shift at the Lovebird started in less than an hour. I had to run home and pick up a clean shirt before I could open the restaurant. I promised to call her later that day and gave her a final kiss goodbye.

  Goose landed on the sidewalk in front of her house, ducked into the bushes in the front flower bed, and disappeared. Maybe he’d found a new place to roost during the day and would stop terrorizing the sidewalk in front of the cafe.

  I lowered the truck windows and let the fresh morning breeze wake me. In the span of a few short hours, I’d been brought back to life. Morgan and I were meant for each other. A part of me had always known, but last night confirmed it.

  There wasn’t a good reason I couldn’t start to look for some coaching jobs around the Nashville area. No good reason except lea
ving Swallow Springs would mean letting go of the pieces that remained of my dream.

  What was it Morgan said about dreams, though? They change. It was time to make a new one… to dream a dream with her by my side this time.

  The morning flew by but when the lunch crowd died down, I took the opportunity to pull out my phone and make a call, one that would finally set me free.

  “Ryder, it’s good to hear from you, son.” Coach Whitney had been behind me since I stepped onto his field the first day of high school team try-outs. “I was just about to give you a call.”

  “Looks like I beat you to it. Anything important?” He reached out often to hear my thoughts on the guys I worked with. With the season opener coming up in a few weeks, he might want to get my feedback on Dion’s short passing game.

  “You know I’ve been talking you up to the high school league. How would you like to sit down with a couple of my colleagues this Friday? If things go well, you might just walk away with a job offer.”

  “Coaching?” Hope ballooned in my chest. I’d been waiting for an area coaching job to open for months. The plan B Jesse gave me so much shit about might finally be falling into place.

  “That’s right. Three o’clock at the district office. Can you make it?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll be there.”

  5

  Ryder

  I met Morgan at the Lovebird with plenty of time to spare. The lunch crowd had thinned, leaving the two of us and a couple of regulars while we waited for the label executive. She looked good enough to gobble up in jeans, a white tank top, and a pair of teal and red boots. If things went well today, she’d be back on track with a series of new songs we’d spent the last couple of nights laying out.

  “Thanks for being here.” She reached across the table to grab my hand. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

  I gave her fingers a squeeze. “I’m right here, baby. You’re going to do great.”

  “I hope so.” She glanced at the bright blue clock hanging on the wall. “What did you say you have going on this afternoon? Some kind of football meeting?”

  “Yeah.” I hadn’t had a chance to tell her about it yet, mostly because I hadn’t figured out what I might do if a position opened. Morgan and I had just found our way back to each other. Her life was in Nashville and if I got that job, mine would be here. Could I really expect us to make something work with so many miles between us?

  Her phone vibrated. She let go of my hand to flick her finger over the screen.

  “He’s running late. Says he’ll be here closer to three. What time is your meeting?”

  I pulled my own phone out of my pocket. “It’s supposed to start at three, but I’ll tell them I’ll be a little late.”

  Her brow furrowed and she mouthed an “I’m sorry” as I moved toward the door.

  Coach Whitney picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Ryder. Still on for three?”

  “I’m running late. I’ve got to see a commitment through but can head over as soon as I’m done.”

  “How long do you think you’ll be? I imagine the meeting will go for about an hour. If you can get here before four, I can help you out. Otherwise…”

  “I’ll be there by four.” I hung up and checked the street. Besides Goose, there wasn’t anyone in sight.

  “Everything okay?” Morgan had gotten up from the booth. She stood at the front of the restaurant where Cassie had cleared enough tables to set up a small riser. Her guitar hung over her shoulder and she messed with the mic stand.

  “Yeah, you want to run through a couple of the songs again?”

  “Sure.”

  A half hour later we’d run through the songs, downed another round of tea, and the guy still hadn’t shown. If I left now, I’d still have enough time to make it to the meeting. Still have a shot at holding onto a small sliver of my dream.

  “I need to run to that meeting. It’s about a coaching job, but I can be back in a half hour, forty-five minutes tops.”

  “Go.”

  “You sure?”

  Her lip quivered but she grabbed my arm. “You’ve got to. It’s what you’ve wanted.”

  I pressed a kiss to her temple, drawing in her sweet scent. “I’ll be back.”

  * * *

  Morgan

  I stood on the stage in front of an audience of one. One man who had the power to make or break my career. If he liked what I’d come up with, he would green light my next album. And if he didn’t, I’d step out of the limelight.

  I wasn’t going to be one of those artists who stood on stage and played other peoples’ songs. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but the whole reason I’d started singing was because of the lyrics. The label had to watch the bottom line, but my focus would always be on my art.

  My guitar hung heavy around my neck. I thought about swapping out the custom acoustic for the one Ryder had taught me to play on. But the guy in the suit cleared his throat. He still had to drive to Kansas City tonight. He looked just as eager as I was to get this over with.

  I strummed the first few chords and opened my mouth to sing. The lyrics Ryder and I worked so hard on stuck in my throat.

  “Ms. Yancy.” The man pushed back from the table. “I’m beginning to think this is a waste of my time.”

  “Do you mind if we start again?” Ryder came from the kitchen, reaching for my old guitar as he made his way to the riser. “Morgan, why don’t you take it from the top?”

  My fingers shook while my stomach did somersaults. What about his meeting? He didn’t have time to make it all the way there and back. With a million questions running through my mind, I did what he asked and played the first chord.

  With Ryder standing next to me, the lyrics came rushing back. He didn’t say a word, just stood there, his long fingers running the strings of my old guitar.

  When we finished playing through the half dozen songs we’d co-written, the record exec pushed back from the table. “Keep up the good work, Ms. Yancy. We’ll be in touch.”

  I waited until he passed Goose and slid into his sleek four-door sedan before I let out the whoop I’d been holding back.

  “You did it.” Ryder caught me up in his arms.

  “We did it. I don’t know what happened, but I couldn’t have done that without you.” I slipped my guitar from my shoulder and used both hands to pull his face toward mine. “What happened to your meeting?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve been thinking. I’m not sure I want to stay in Swallow Springs. I think it’s time for plan C.”

  “Really?” A sliver of hope lodged in my chest. “What does plan C involve?”

  He shrugged. “I hear they play football in Nashville.”

  I couldn’t hold my smile in if I wanted to. “I’ve heard that, too.”

  His arms went around me, and his lips pressed against my forehead. “I let you go once, Morgan. It might have taken me a bit, but not even I’m stupid enough to let that happen again.”

  I pulled back just far enough to meet his gaze. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Now can we get out of here so I can take you somewhere and show you exactly how much?”

  “You told Cassie I’d play a set.”

  “That’s not until seven. We’ve got”—he glanced at his watch— “a little over an hour before you have to be back.”

  “An hour? That’s not enough time to—”

  He silenced me with a kiss, the kind that made my knees buckle and had those butterflies pounding their wings against the walls of my chest.

  “I think it’s exactly enough time for what I’ve got in mind.” He tugged me behind him, through the door, past Goose, and toward his truck.

  I might have given up on Ryder all those years ago, but he was right about one thing. We did belong together and now that we’d found our way back to each other, I’d never lose sight of that again.

  About the Author

  USA Today bestselling author Dylann Crush writes contemporar
y romance with sizzle, sass, heart and humor. A true romantic, she loves her heroines spunky and her heroes super sexy. When she's not dreaming up steamy storylines, she can be found sipping a margarita and searching for the best Tex-Mex food in the Upper Midwest.

  Dylann co-hosts Romance Happy Hour (https://www.romancehappyhour.com) with live episodes the 2nd and 4th Thursday of each month and is a founding member of the Romance Chicks Facebook group where authors and romance readers can connect.

  Although she grew up in Texas, she currently lives in a suburb of Minneapolis/St. Paul with her unflappable husband, three energetic kids, a clumsy Great Dane, a lovable rescue mutt, and two very chill cats. She loves to connect with readers, other authors and fans of tequila.

  www.dylanncrush.com

  https://dylanncrush.com/signup

  Nobody’s Perfect

  Nadia Mack

  Friends to lovers, gay for you, and seriously, there was only one bed!

  1

  Phil

  My body clock tells me I’ve overslept. I feel marginally better than when I went to bed early this morning, but still not great. What happened after the dancing? Thinking hurts too much. Whoever’s bed this is, it smells clean. I really don’t want to throw up in it.

  I force myself awake. Cole lies in the bed watching me—so close we’re almost sharing a pillow. He looks surprisingly bright, given how much we drank last night. The rasp of my three-day-old beard on the bedlinen makes me think I’m not looking half as groomed as Cole.

  “Ugh, thank fuck.” I groan and run my fingers over my eyes, trying to scrub the scratchy dehydrated feeling from them. “I’m so glad I’m in your bed.” Surprise overtakes Cole’s expression at my words. It’s two seconds before I realise how they sound. “I mean,” I quickly backpedal, “I’m glad I’m here in this bed with you and not someone else.” Oh God, I’m making it worse. I cover my eyes again and groan. I hear a snort and some shuffling and move my arm. Cole is sitting up with the sheets pooled at his hips, grinning again. Like he’s not in bed with his straight friend who recently ended a two-year relationship with a woman.