Living in Sin (Living In…) (18 page)

His throat closed up and it was hard to speak. Hard to articulate the great, crushing emotion that gripped him. “Fuck,” he forced out. “You’re only twenty. How the hell did you get to be so wise?”

Lily’s hand slid up his chest, curled around his neck. “I had a good teacher. Plus living with death for three years changes your perspective a little.”

“Who was your teacher?”

“You, you idiot.” Then she pulled his mouth down on hers and he discovered she was right. Nothing else mattered but this.

Sometime in the night, when they were finally sated and panting, Lily lay back in Kahu’s arms and put her hand on the necklace still lying between her breasts. “You’re never getting this back, okay?”

“I told you, greenstone can only be given. And it’s yours now.”

“Excellent.” She snuggled against him, running a hand down his hard body.

He groaned. “Jesus, woman. I’m an old man. Give me a moment.”

She laughed. “Please don’t tell me I’m going to have to break out the Viagra. You’re not that old.”

At that moment her cell phone rang. She debated not answering it but then Kahu nudged her. “You should get that. I think I know who it might be.”

She turned in his arms, looking up at him. “Who?”

“Your dad.”

“Oh?”

“I told him about us.”

Oh.

“It was probably premature,” Kahu went on, “seeing as how I called him before I left for Sydney or spoke to you, but I wanted him to know.”

“Good,” Lily said firmly. “I’m glad you did.”

She rolled out of bed and reached for the phone, and punched the answer button. She wasn’t nervous about this, of course she wasn’t. “Hey Dad.”

A small silence. “Lily,” her father said. “How did the audition go?”

So he’d remembered that, had he? “I don’t know. They’re going to let me know in the next week or so.”

Another silence. “I’m…proud of you, you know that?”

Her throat felt tight. “Um…no, actually, I didn’t know. It’s not like you tell me.”

Her father sighed. “I’m sorry, Lily. I’ve been a pretty crap father for a long time, haven’t I?”

Lily swallowed. “Yeah, Dad. You have.”

“Look, I know I can’t make up for that. But…Kahu talked to me about… Well, about the fact that you and he are…you know.”

“Having an affair?”

“Yes, that.”

Her hand clenched tight on the phone. “We’re not having an affair, Dad. We’re in love.”

“I have to tell you that you should keep away from him. He’s a good man but his past—”

“I know all about his past. And it doesn’t matter.”

Her father was silent. Then he said, “Stay away anyway, Lily. Love is…painful.”

There was a warm hand on her back, a warm mouth on her shoulder. Kahu’s music, keeping her strong. “Love is a good kind of pain, Dad. Didn’t you know that? And if we didn’t have pain, how would we understand happiness?”

“Oh, ballerina.” Kahu’s voice, low and quiet behind her. “I don’t know if your father can handle that right now.”

And there was more silence on the end of the phone. “He’s with you now, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Lily said. “And I’m never leaving him, Dad. He’s mine. Now if you’ll excuse me, we have some urgent stuff to attend to.” She hung up the call and threw the phone onto the floor. And turned into Kahu’s arms.

And there was music, and pain and pleasure.

And above all, there was love.

About the Author

Jackie has been writing fiction since she was eleven years old. Mild mannered fantasy/SF/pseudo-literary writer by day, obsessive romance writer by night, she used to balance her writing with the more serious job of librarianship until a chance meeting with another romance writer prompted her to throw off the shackles of her day job and devote herself to the true love of her heart—writing romance. She particularly likes to write dark, emotional stories with alpha heroes who’ve just got the world to their liking only to have it blown wide apart by their kick-ass heroines.

She lives in Auckland, New Zealand with her husband, the inimitable Dr. Jax, two kids, two cats and some guppies (possibly dead guppies by the time you read this). When she’s not torturing alpha males and their stroppy heroines, she can be found drinking chocolate martinis, reading anything she can lay her hands on, posting random crap on her blog, or being forced to go mountain biking with her husband.

You can find Jackie at
www.jackieashenden.com
or follow her on Twitter
@JackieAshenden
.

Look for these titles by Jackie Ashenden

Now Available:

Falling For Finn

Black Knight, White Queen

Lies We Tell

Taking Him

Having Her

Living In…

Living in Shadow

Coming Soon:

Living in Secret

Finding his way out of the darkness could be the biggest fight of his life.

Living in Shadow

© 2014 Jackie Ashenden

Living In…, Book 1

Law professor Eleanor May is fine with taking over a class for a colleague on sabbatical. She’s not so fine with the hot student who’s always seated front and center. Once upon a time
she
was that student…and the scars remain eight years after it ended.

Yet this guy seems different from the others. Despite the alarm bells in her head warning her about history repeating itself, she is drawn toward the forbidden once again—even though this time it could consume her.

Lucien North’s past is darker than the ink on his skin, a reminder of a time when survival was a fight to the death. Seducing his beautiful professor wasn’t supposed to be part of his plan to put it behind him, but there’s something about Eleanor that’s gotten hold of him and won’t let go.

Together they light up the night, but will their powerful desire lead them to love—or drag them both to the brink of disaster?

Warning: This book contains a younger man so hot he might scorch your fingertips, and forbidden lust so tempting, there’s no point in trying to resist. Check your inhibitions at the door—it’s WTFery 101 and class is in session.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Living in Shadow:

English legal history. Fuck, Luc was starting to hate this class. It was his own special brand of hell: a lecture theatre full of people and him in the middle row with a slowly intensifying hard-on. And all because Professor Eleanor May was writing something on the whiteboard and her little pencil skirt was pulling tight around her extremely delectable ass.

Luc glanced down at the laptop open on his desk. Anything so he didn’t have to look at her. The screen was completely blank. He hadn’t taken any notes whatsoever and they were almost done with the class.

Jesus. This was the third time in as many weeks he’d sat there, hard and aching, thinking things he shouldn’t be thinking instead of taking notes. At this rate he wouldn’t be passing the paper if he didn’t get his head back into study mode, and since he had only a couple of semesters left before getting his law degree, failing a paper would be very bad indeed.

She was talking again, her husky voice filling the room, and he didn’t want to look because he knew what he would see: a petite, fine-boned woman with golden-blonde hair in an elegant chignon. All feminine sophistication in a beautifully tailored pencil skirt of pale blue and a crisp white shirt, a small silver necklace around her neck. It made her seem fragile, yet the impression she gave off was anything but. Her gray eyes were as sharp as a steel blade and she walked as if she were ten feet tall and bulletproof. Like she was keeping everyone at a distance.

But not when she spoke. When she gave a lecture, her delicate face would light up and the impression of ice and steel and distance would vanish. She would look at everyone in the room as if they were all having a conversation together and she was interested in what they had to say. Becoming warm and approachable. And if questions were asked, she’d smile and it would be like the sun had come into the room.

Christ, he wanted some of that sun.

He’d been at Auckland University for four years, only spotting Eleanor May a couple of years after he’d started since she mainly taught postgraduate students. Even back then, he’d registered her but had dismissed the attraction. She was a professor. Polished and sophisticated and way too much like hard work for him. He preferred his pleasure easy to come by and undemanding, with women who didn’t want anything more from him than a couple of orgasms. Definitely not complicated, and seducing Professor May had complicated written all over it.

And then she’d taken over his English legal history class from Professor Holmes who’d gone off on sabbatical. And every Thursday he’d found himself sitting in the same place, right down in the front of the class, in the middle of the row, so he could look at her.

So he could figure out what the hell he found so fucking fascinating about her.

Because it wasn’t only her beauty, though she had plenty of that. He could find beauty anywhere these days and though he’d once glutted himself on it, it hadn’t ultimately satisfied him.

No, she had more than that. Perhaps it was the sharp intelligence he saw in her eyes whenever she spoke. Or maybe it was the distance she projected, as if she were holding the world at bay. The kind of distance that made him want to close it. Touch her.

Or perhaps it was merely the contrast to all the other women he’d had up till this point. Women his own age or a couple of years younger. Who had no distance, no walls. Children, in many ways. Children who didn’t even know they were alive. Which was fine because that was the way children should be. Yet, at the same time, they offered no secrets. No challenges.

Strange to find that was suddenly an issue, when challenges and secrets and complications were the last thing he wanted.

Whatever it was that fascinated him about Eleanor May, it made every lecture pure fucking torture.

Luc sat back in his seat, folding his arms. Watching her. Irritated with himself and his stupid fucking cock with its insistence on wanting a woman he wasn’t allowed to have anyway.

She was reaching the part where she looked at each person in turn as she reiterated her main points, a tactic that worked well in drawing people in to what she was saying. Except that, for some reason, she never looked at him.

God, he was sick of that too.

He shifted on his seat, spreading himself out a little, pinning his gaze on her. She looked at his neighbor, then, like it always did, her gaze skipped him and went on down the row. As if he didn’t even exist.

Oh fuck no. Not today. Today she was going to damn well look.

Perhaps she’s not looking at you for a reason?

Well, whatever the hell that reason was, it was not happening today.

Luc raised his hand to his mouth and coughed.

And she looked; cool, gray eyes seeking the source of the sound. Meeting his head on.

The electric shock of the impact hit him like a plunge into an icy lake on a blistering-hot day. Echoing through him, all the way down to the soles of his feet.

He stared at her and she stared back and he saw it—he fucking saw it—a flare of reaction in her eyes. So fast and fleeting that if he hadn’t already been aware of her with every inch of his being, he may have missed it. But it was there nonetheless.

She looked away quickly, but by that time it was too late. He heard the falter in her voice. He saw the slight flush to her cheeks.

He knew.

She’d
seen
him. And not the student. She’d seen the man.

A surge of heat went through him, vicious and wild. Winding the ache inside him even tighter than it was already. Fuck, he so did not need this. He didn’t get obsessed with women. They came to him if they wanted him, and, shit, he was happy to oblige. No harm, no foul. No one got hurt and that was how he liked it.

But being attracted to his professor? Christ. This was against the rules and he was a great believer in rules. Pity his body didn’t seem to give a shit.

She was finishing up now, the people around him starting to put their stuff away in preparation for leaving. But he didn’t want to go. He wanted those cool eyes on him again. Wanted to see that flash of reaction again. Because he was sure it had been a reaction. To him.

As the people around him began to get to their feet, he watched her stand by the podium, fiddling around with her laptop. Not looking at him.

Fuck. He needed to know. He needed to see if he was right. And he wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on anything else until he did.

Wine her, dine her…then untie her.

Sweet Obsession

© 2014 Kelly Jamieson

Windy City Kink, Book 1

Sasha Bendel is a bundle of nerves as she knocks on the door of a Gold Coast penthouse. Her landscape design business took a hard hit when one of her biggest clients defaulted on his payment, and she desperately needs this rooftop garden design project to get back in the black.

But when her potential client answers the door, she’s stunned. It’s her old high school boyfriend, the one her wealthy parents ran out of her life when they were discovered engaging in some youthful exploration of bondage and discipline.

Twelve years ago, Jack Grenville let Sasha’s powerful father intimidate him into giving up the love of his life. With the help of a sensei, he’s overcome his obstacles and accepted his sexual dominance. Now he’s back in Chicago to claim what’s his—Sasha.

One look at Jack brings back all the forbidden desires Sasha’s put on lock-down since that shameful night. No way can she turn down this money-is-no-object job…but can she resist Jack’s no-knots-barred determination to recapture her heart?

Warning: This book contains a woman with a sweet tooth, a man with a sweet obsession, a cupboard full of bondage rope, and some not-so-sweet kink.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Sweet Obsession:

Jack jumped to his feet, hands curled into fists. “You wanted everything we did together as much as I did.” Bewildered, he battled for control. “Sasha.” He lowered his voice. “Didn’t you?”

“What we did was…wrong.”

“Wrong?”

She sank her top teeth into her plush bottom lip. “Yes.”

How could she think that? Was that what the problem was here? “Why would you say that?”

She shook her head.

He moved closer. “Seriously, Sasha.” He brushed her hair off her shoulder. She still looked like she wanted to flee, but she didn’t move. “Why?” He clasped her hips, gently, his big hands spanning them. “Okay, let’s deal with this.”

“With what?”

He barreled ahead. “Do you blame me for what happened that night?”

“Oh.” She swallowed. “Yes. No. I don’t know. I’m confused. You confuse me. You get me all…”

“Aroused.”

She groaned and closed her eyes again, her cheeks washing even redder. Gorgeous.

“It’s okay, Sasha.” He pulled her against him and slid a hand up her back, then rubbed up and down in a gentle, hopefully soothing motion. “It’s okay. I’m aroused too. You turn me on. All I have to do is fucking look at you, and I’m hard.” He pushed his hips into her to show her, and she moaned again. “I’ve wanted you again from the minute you walked in here that day. We’re all grown up now. We can do whatever we want. It’s not like back in high school. Right?”

She said nothing, her pretty lips pressed together, her eyes still closed. Christ, she was acting more virginal now than she had when she was sixteen. Weird. But fuck it, he was still hot for her and clearly she was just as turned on. She was resisting for some unfuckinggodknown reason.

“You’re my client,” she whispered. “This isn’t professional.”

He laughed. “Yeah, whatever.”

Her eyes slowly opened. “You confuse me,” she repeated. “You do all these nice things for me, you touch me like that…I don’t know why you’re hiring me and paying me all that money—”

“Wait just a minute.” He cut her off, his voice hard. “Those are two separate things, honey. Hiring you and paying you all that money is because you’re the best at what you do and you’re entitled to be fairly compensated for that. That has nothing to do with…this.”

“Really?”

“I told you that before. Cross my fucking heart, babe.” He paused. That had sounded flippant. He held her gaze steadily. “I swear on my parents’ graves, Sasha. Two. Separate. Things.”

Her eyes widened and her face softened. Yeah. She was probably the only person in the world who knew what it meant for him to say that.

She touched his face with her fingertips, and he closed his eyes at the gentle contact. Her thumb brushed over his bottom lip and heat once more rushed to his groin.

“Are you afraid of me?” he murmured against her fingertip.

“Yes. For lots of reasons.”

After a short pause, he said, “I’m glad you are.”

She stared back at him. “What?”

“I’m glad you’re afraid of me. If you weren’t a little afraid, you wouldn’t be so turned on.”

“Jack.” She closed her eyes. “We can’t do this.”

He smiled. “Even so, you’re not running.”

“No.” She exhaled. “I’m not.”

He wanted to shout with joy and relief, and he wrapped his arms around her. Her soft breasts cushioned against his chest, her hips pressed against his and her hands slid over his neck and shoulders.

He bent his head and her mouth opened to his again. She melted against him, winding her arms around his neck, and he wrapped her up in his and crushed her to him. They kissed over and over, soft, lush kisses, tongues rubbing. Her hands slid into his hair and played there, teasing him, sending tingles cascading from his scalp all down his spine.

It was driving him fucking nuts, Sasha in and out of his home all the time, looking so freaking hot and sweet and sexy and focused on business. Watching her talking to the construction guys and directing them made him horny as hell. The fact that she was obviously so knowledgeable and talented in what she was doing made him hot for her.

He wanted the damn rooftop garden done. And yet, he didn’t want it done, because then Sasha wouldn’t be there.

All those times she came to ask him questions about little things…sometimes he wondered if she really needed to ask him. She could’ve made those decisions. He was easy. But she sought him out and consulted with him and discussed options, and he loved talking to her and sharing ideas with her and watching her.

He’d been patient. He really had. And he thought she was relaxing a little around him, since they’d been friendly and getting to know each other again. In a non-sexual, non-threatening way.

Well. It wasn’t completely non-sexual. You’d have to be blind and stupid not to notice the electricity that arced between them whenever they were together. Adam had noticed it. Emma had noticed it. Sasha might be pretending it wasn’t there, but she’d definitely noticed it.