Authors: Mackenzie McKade
Enjoy the following excerpt for
A Little Wild:
Jack Halloran’s hands were all over her, caressing her breasts, her tummy, her thighs…parting her legs, slowly, deliberately…nearly there, nearly touching her clit…ohhh…then drifting away again, teasing, tormenting, filling her with unquenchable lust.
Letting out a whimper, Tess slid deeper into the tub. Hot water skimmed her chin as her freshly washed hair floated around her. Millions of jasmine-scented bubbles lapped at her raised knees and buoyed her arms.
If she sank low enough, consciously clearing her mind, and allowed the soothing effects of a long, hot soak to take over, her fantasies of Jack Halloran would vanish down the drain with the bubbles. They had to. She’d be useless at work on Monday if she didn’t free herself from these maddening physical distractions.
And Chloe wondered why Tess intended to remain celibate while she worked her way up at the firm. Surrendering to the demands of her body always messed with her head. She needed focus, not diversions. In a few years, she’d rethink things, dip her toes into the sex pool again.
There’d be other men like Jack Halloran.
She had plenty of time.
A hollow ache balled in her chest. Plugging her nose, she submerged herself completely. The weight of the water thumped in her ears, and welcome heat drenched her skin. When her lungs contracted, she came up for air. The phone on the lowered toilet lid rang.
She tugged the towel on the inside-tub rod to dry her face. Usually, she didn’t bring the telephone into the bathroom. However, last night her youngest sister had called to report that their mother was experiencing a major housecleaning fit. At such times, their father made himself scarce, which upset Patrice Sheridan, who maintained she only kept a perfect house to please him.
In truth, Tess and her sisters realized their mother entered housecleaning overload whenever she felt neglected or under some other equally disturbing Mike-Sheridan-induced stress. Calling each of her daughters and griping about Dad seemed to calm Mom.
Curving her wet hair behind one ear, Tess sat halfway up in the tub. She glanced at the call display.
Private.
Frowning, she clicked Talk. “Yes?”
“Tess S.?”
Jack!
Her nipples contracted into tight, tingling peaks. She could blame the reaction on the fact that warm, sudsy water no longer covered her breasts, but she knew better. Her body had responded to his low, sensual voice in much the same way Wednesday night.
Wait.
How had he found her phone number?
She jerked up. Her elbow hooked the towel, dragging it into the water.
Shit!
“Just a minute.” She fumbled with the wet terry cloth. Too late. It was soaked through. And plastered against her stiff nipples.
“Tess?” he repeated, concern softening his deep voice.
She anchored the towel beneath her arms to prevent it from skating around and destroying her precious bubbles. She leaned back against the tub, the jasmine-scented water splashing and her breathing choppy. In her rush, she’d positioned the towel width-wise, and the wet terry cloth hovered at the tops of her thighs.
“Sorry, I…wasn’t dressed.” Her face warmed.
His concern segued into libidinous male interest. “Now you are?”
“Um, kind of.”
“Too bad,” he murmured.
The drenched towel rasped against her nipples, and a satisfying buzz centered between her thighs. She wiggled her hips, and the buzz deepened.
Hmm.
She’d never before considered the erotic possibilities of having a towel in the tub—but she did now.
Of course, she wouldn’t act on those urges. At least not while she had Jack on the phone. Unless, well,
he
could participate, too.
She shook her head to dispel the hot fantasy. How
had
he found her? The fake number she’d passed him wasn’t anything like her own. The directory listed her as T. A. Sheridan—a far cry from Tess S. And she’d opted out of every online listing she could find.
“I’m surprised you could reach me,” she said warily.
His gravely chuckle spread through her. “I’ll bet.”
She didn’t want to think about bets. “How did you get this phone number?”
“You gave it to me, remember?”
No, she hadn’t. And he knew so. That he’d discovered it should alarm her. Aside from Wednesday night, she’d never met him before. He could be a lunatic—or worse.
Yet, something in Jack Halloran’s voice reassured her that he was quite sane. Recalling his affable responses to her botched pickup lines mollified her fears, too. If he’d wanted to take advantage of her, he could have done so Wednesday night.
But he hadn’t.
“Yeah, Jack, about that number…” She let her voice trail off. She’d circumvent the truth out of him, a handy trick learned in law school.
For a moment, he didn’t respond. Then the friendly tone she remembered from Danver’s returned. “Don’t worry about it. Women give me fake phone numbers all the time. That’s why I blocked mine before I called. In case you were toying with me again.”
Despite a few loitering notes of caution, she smiled. As if any woman wouldn’t love the attention of a gorgeous guy like Jack Halloran. He probably beat back hordes of adoring females on a daily basis.
Relaxing, she planted a foot on the tub’s overflow vent. The loosening towel rubbed her sensitized flesh, and the warm, bubbly water caressed her bikini-trimmed mound.
Mmm.
She closed her eyes and luxuriated in the bliss of her arousal. Her fingers yearned to move with the water’s flow, to touch, dip, stroke, indulge herself…just a little bit…
please
.
What would be the harm? Jack wouldn’t know what she was doing, he couldn’t, unless
she chose
to tell him.
A sensuous shiver raced through her. “And you’re a PI?” she asked, her voice sounding languorous in the steam-filled bathroom. “That’s how you dig up the real numbers?”
“No. Your friend gave me yours as you were leaving.”
“She did what?” Tess bolted upright in the tub. The towel slipped and jasmine-scented froth slopped out onto the bathmat.
Chloe was about to become one very dead best fiend! No wonder she’d grinned the whole time she was here. She’d outwitted Tess at every turn.
“You were ahead of her leaving the pub, so maybe you didn’t notice,” Jack said. “She said you experience temporary dyslexia when you drink and might have written down the wrong phone number by mistake.”
“I don’t get temporary dyslexia!” Was there such a thing?
“Then you admit you gave me the wrong number on purpose?”
“I—” The towel drifted onto her lower legs. She kicked it partway off. She should drown herself. Here and now. Save herself the humiliation of dealing with the consequences of Chloe’s treachery.
“Or was hitting on me the tequila talking?”
Tess lifted a hand. “No. I wasn’t drunk, I promise.” Drinking and debauching wasn’t her style. That she’d hit on Jack while slightly buzzed was bad enough, but when she slept with him—uh, if—she intended to be stone-cold sober.
Well, not cold, exactly. Probably extra warm.
Ooh Godddd, she really was going nuts.
The point was, when and if they ever did it, she wanted to be fully aware of every delicious moment.
With a studmuffin like Jack Halloran at her disposal, she certainly wouldn’t risk dulling her senses with alcohol.
“Just tipsy, then?” he persisted.
“More like emboldened.”
His hearty laugh caressed her ear. “Tess S., you amaze me.”
Her nipples tingled. She slid back into the sudsy water, re-covering rebellious body parts.
“Yes, emboldened,” she stated in her best authoritative-lawyer tone. “Take it or leave it. It’s my final offer.”
“I’ll take it. When would you like to go out?”
“Out?”
“Yeah, our date. You do recall asking for one?”
“Yes, but…” Sinful heat danced in her veins. Here was her chance to prove Chloe wrong—for real this time. And what a perfect opportunity to quash her own doubts.
She could have that carefree life she’d always envisioned. All she had to do was start by saying yes to Jack.
She trailed her hand down her bubble-strewn thigh, and sensation arrowed between her legs.
As a matter of fact, she could start right now. Considering the signals her insistent body kept sending her, it wouldn’t take much to rev herself up again. Treat herself to some titillating phone action—and go a little wild.
She was safe with Jack. Somewhere deep inside herself, an illogical but steadfast seed blossomed. She felt safer with a man she’d met three days ago than she did with her platonic male friends. She felt incredibly safe…and a million kinds of naughty.
She deserved this.
Yes, she did.
She deserved to take him with her.
He’ll put her on display, if that’s what it takes to keep her…
Flaunt It
© 2011 Natasha Moore
When it comes to sexy and sassy, Piper, the most popular waitress at Ben’s bar, has it all going on. Now that they’re dating, though, Ben wishes she’d dial down the skimpy clothes and flirty attitude, and her habit of dancing around the bar and flashing to her favorite song. Every teasing peek at her body, every laugh at some customer’s lousy joke, is certainly good for business—but it sends his jealousy meter into the red zone.
They’re dating, sure, but he’s no muscled, tattooed stud with diamonds in his ears. How can he compete, especially when she refuses to even spend the night at his place?
Desperate, Ben books a room at his friend Paolo’s fantasy club, hoping an erotic night in front of a two-way mirror will get her exhibitionist streak out of her system. Praying it won’t prove his greatest fears—that she lives only to show off. And he’s not that special to her at all…
Warning: Flirting and pole dancing, hot sex and showing off for an invisible audience. Stop by the playhouse and live out your fantasies!
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Flaunt It:
The sky was beginning to cloud up by the time Ben got to Piper’s place. She lived in a sprawling first-floor apartment in an old brick Victorian house. As he climbed the stairs to the door she’d painted bright yellow, he could hear loud music blasting through the open upstairs windows. Was that banjo picking? Her doorbell played “I Love Rock and Roll”.
When she opened her apartment door to let him in, he said, “Do you want me to say something to the guy upstairs about the music?”
Just don’t tell me he’s six foot five and built like a linebacker.
“No, it’s okay. We’re going out anyway.” She kissed his cheek as he walked through the door into the long hallway painted the same color as the door. “But thanks for the offer.”
Ben finally got a chance to really look at Piper when they reached the large living room with the high ceilings and the bow window. His breath left his lungs as he stared at her. Soft had never been a word he’d use to describe Piper. She was bold, brash, sexy, even a little bit wild. But tonight for some reason, she’d softened her edge.
Her short platinum blonde hair was smooth around her face with a gentle flip at the ends. The pink streak was barely visible. Her makeup seemed softer too, although he couldn’t really say how.
“Wow. That dress.” He swallowed. “You look great.” It was a piece of silky silver sin, held up by skinny straps and skimming her body in all the right places. He couldn’t wait to get it off her. “And look at those shoes.” No sneakers tonight. She wore sparkly silver sandals with heels higher than he’d ever seen her wear before. “Very nice.”
Her eyes lit up at the compliments. Hmm, maybe he didn’t say those pretty words often enough. She stepped up to him and smoothed the front of his black button-down shirt.
“Mmm. You clean up well too.” She kissed him then, her lips hot and wet, her mouth hungry as she nibbled on his lower lip. She rubbed up against his body with a promise of what was to come.
He pulled away long enough to stare into her blue eyes and gasp for breath. “Thanks.” He captured her lips once more and she made those sounds in the back of her throat that always drove him crazy. Everything in him wanted to lay her down and take her. Right here. Right now. He eyed her carefully. “How are you doing? Still up for this tonight?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I got my second wind in the shower.” Her eyes were bright again. So was her smile.
“In the shower? You had to mention the shower?” Piper wet. Naked. Ben was even harder than he had been a moment ago. “The thought of you all soapy and slippery is driving me crazy.” He groaned and rubbed his face against her silky hair. “God, you smell good.” He pressed his aching cock into her hip. “You feel good too, Piper. Too good.”
Piper swayed in his arms to the music playing in the background. She always had music playing, no matter where they were. Tonight it was bluesy jazz. She probably wouldn’t mind the music coming from upstairs if it wasn’t old-school country; she’d never been a fan of twang. She brushed her body seductively against his erection with every move she made. “Are you going to tell me now what the fantasy is?”