Authors: Sarah Castille
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Erotica, #Contemporary, #Suspense, #Legal Heat#1
She kept her eyes down until the bar stools came into view, afraid to find out too early that she was too late. Her stomach fluttered as she lifted her gaze.
“What can I get for you?” He set a wine glass in front of her.
Her heart sank at his formal tone. “White wine, please.”
“Anything in particular?”
She was all too aware of the counter separating them. His cool, detached manner. His impassive face. She bit her lip to stop the tears. She shouldn’t be surprised. She had hurt him and sent him away after he had opened up his heart.
“I don’t suppose you have any Meursault?” Her bottom lip quivered.
A hint of a smile played on his lips. “I might have a bottle down in the wine cellar.”
Hope bloomed in her chest. She rounded the counter, stopping only a foot away from him. She looked up, trying to tell him with her eyes the words her constricted throat would not say. For an agonizingly long moment, they just stared at each other, and she saw her own conflicted emotions reflected in his warm, brown eyes. Her heart pounded as she silently pleaded for the tiniest sign that it wasn’t all over.
“Mark.” Her voice came out in hoarse whisper.
And then he pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest in a fierce embrace. “God, I missed you, Katy.” He buried his face in her hair and his arms tightened even more around her.
Hot, soft tears spilled over her cheeks, staining his T-shirt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I needed time.”
“Don’t be.” He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Katy. I would have waited forever.”
She leaned up to brush her lips over his, but Mark drew back.
“No more conflict?” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
She laughed softly. “No more conflict. Of any kind.”
His finger brushed the bloom of her cheek. “No psychotic ex-husbands, calculating managing partners, corporate conspiracies, deceitful clients or armed villains?”
“All gone,” she whispered, breathing in his scent of soap and sandalwood. Comforting. Arousing. Achingly familiar.
“Any doubts?” He threaded his hand through her hair and gently tugged her head to the side, exposing her neck to his heated lips. Everything inside her warmed then flamed.
“None. This is where I want to be. With you. Forever.”
He kissed her, a long, deep kiss that said more than words.
Katy melted into him, needing him so badly she could barely breathe. She returned the kiss, then pulled away and opened the door to the wine cellar.
“Shall we go and find that Meursault?”
Mark gave her a wicked grin and turned on the light. “I might have put it on the top shelf this time.”
“Then you’ll have to give me a hand.” She took the first few steps down into the cellar.
“That was the idea.”
Katy stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “How did you know I would come back?”
“I trusted my heart.”
“And I trust mine.” She felt the undeniable truth of her feelings deep in her soul.
Mark pulled the door closed and they made their way down the stairs. When they reached the wine cellar, he turned Katy to face him and then cradled her face between his hands. “I imagined this.”
Katy laughed softly. “I remember. We lived out this particular fantasy of yours in my bedroom.”
A smile curved his lips. “No. This.” He leaned down and slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her with a passion that left her breathless.
“Loving you.”
About the Author
Award winning author, Sarah Castille, pens steamy contemporary romance and erotic romantic suspense. She has been an established lawyer both on the West Coast and at one of the world’s largest law firms in London, England. Her thrilling sensual tales feature red-hot alpha males, kick-ass heroines, dark desires and dangerous passions…all with a legal flavor.
After many years of working and travelling abroad, Sarah traded in her briefcase and stilettos for a handful of magic beans and a home in the shadow of Canada’s Rocky Mountains. When she is not glued to her keyboard or e-reader, she can be found playing piano, shuttling munchkins and burning dinners.
Sarah is a firm believer in justice, caffeine and the seductive power of a sexy…smile.
Look for these titles by Sarah Castille
Coming Soon:
Undercover Brief
The more she wanted out, the more they dragged her back in.
With A Vengeance
© 2013 Jacqui Jacoby
Daughter to murdered CIA officers, niece to a deputy director, Jaime Walsh has never known life outside the world of espionage. Until a high-action case in Buenos Aires leaves her gutted. Physically, emotionally…and professionally.
She’d planned for her long-overdue vacation to be a time to rest and reassess. With her longtime partner Stephen not far behind, it’s a tropical paradise away from work. A paradise where boundaries will be tested.
From their training days, Stephen Reid has watched Jaime kick ass while performing what has become his second job—watching her back. But now his feelings have grown.
As best friends look at each other in a new light, they like what they see. And Jaime dreams of a new life outside “the company”.
Except someone from their past won’t be satisfied until Jaime and the man she loves are hunted to the brink of death. Now Jaime must find the strength to trust her heart and let go of her fear. Before she loses everything…
Warning: This book contains world travel with stops in exotic locations, a kick-ass heroine who just wants to be left alone and a sexy hero who can’t seem to stop himself from watching her back.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
With A Vengeance:
Jaime, Collin and Stephen splashed through the drainage pipe, heading into the belly of the city, long since immune to the stench around them. The pipe narrowed two more feet, forcing them to hunch over. In the dark, they felt their way along the wall, knowing sooner or later they were going to find a manhole or drain from the street or something big enough to let them crawl out of this hellhole.
“Hawaii,” Jaime said, breaking a long silence.
“What about it?” Stephen asked, directly behind her. He kept one hand in hers, the other on the wall.
“I think I’m going to go to Hawaii.”
Collin chuckled from in front of her. Always the heroes, they had stuck her in the middle. Again. “When is that taking place?”
“As soon as I get out of here. I need a vacation.”
Now Stephen laughed. “You wouldn’t know how.”
She stopped to stretch. The roof was too low for her to stand, so she leaned over, stretching her back and arms. “I might surprise you.”
Here in Argentina their job had been simple. To ascertain the production of uranium was used for nuclear reactors and not nuclear weapons. So far, the job had been a piece of cake. Posing as American representatives of the civilian company, Agency of Nuclear Technology, they had easily obtained access to the Ezeiza Processing Plant and the Pilcaniyeu Enrichment Plant.
Rico Chavez, an employee of Ezeiza, had been born in Argentina and educated at MIT. Already suspicious of his superiors’ motives when Jaime had approached him with an offer of cash in exchange for a look into the Ezeiza records, he had readily agreed.
The records indicated nothing improper was happening at the plant, and the crew had been about to call it quits and head home.
Except now Rico Chavez had been hit and Jaime had been seen in the room.
God, I’m tired
. Jaime couldn’t even remember the last time she had taken a holiday.
Keeping to the left, they traveled through the maze.
The tunnels led to a ladder. A manhole. The street above. Two cars were parked directly beside them, blocking their ascent to the real world from anyone who might happen by. The rain fell, but it had lost its wrath.
When they crawled onto the street, they didn’t have a clue how far they were from where they entered the drains.
Collin replaced the cover and put his arm over Jaime’s shoulder. They walked off, Stephen two steps behind. The buildings they walked by advertised rooms for rent by the hour.
Collin detoured into a late-night market while Jaime and Stephen leaned against the outside wall.
Collin was back within three minutes, stuffing a small package into his jacket pocket.
They kept moving.
Walking past a dilapidated building whose neon window sign proclaimed the establishment simply as “Hotel”, they exchanged looks, walked over the threshold and got themselves a room.
The clerk’s eyebrows arched when he looked up from his newspaper. His chapped lips spread into a crooked smile over his short, dirty beard when they requested one room for the three of them.
“
Si
.” He leered. “
Si, si
.”
If they hadn’t been so tired, if they had cared one iota what this moron thought, they might have defended themselves. But they were and they didn’t, so they let him think his perverted thoughts, grabbed their key and took the stairs to the second floor.
The carpet had been red at one point. Torn and discolored, it fit perfectly with the spotted walls that screamed for paint.
Room 2A. Top of the stairs and to the right.
Stephen entered first, turning on the lights.
Collin shut the door behind them, snapping the lock.
“Bathroom. Now,” Stephen ordered Jaime.
She grunted as Collin pulled out the brown paper bag and tossed it to Stephen. Stephen caught it overhand.
Jaime sat down on the edge of the stained tub, her hands on her knees as she waited for the torture.
The three-by-five bathroom reeked of things living where they shouldn’t be living. Stephen sat on closed toilet seat and used the back as a table. Opening the bag, he pulled out the peroxide, aspirin, gauze and first-aid tape. Stretching his leg out, he reached into his jeans pocket and got out his Swiss Army knife.
She saw him in the mirror on the back of the door as he worked, the concentration etched on his chiseled features, his blue eyes watching his own fingers move.
“This could really use some stitches,” Stephen said.
“And?” she said, wincing when he dabbed at the wound with a cloth soaked in peroxide.
She could see her blood on his fingers and on his watch. A droplet was even running down the back of his hand, but he ignored it.
“FYI,” he said, tossing the cloth into the sink. “You scared me,” he added, looking her straight in the eye before cutting a couple of butterfly bandages.
“You should learn to drive better.”
He smiled. Jaime always loved his smile. It made even the worst times seem okay.
Like now.
“You do need to get another hobby besides babysitting me, you know,” she told him. He smiled again, only this time there was a mischievous edge to it and she knew she would pay.
She did.
He pushed harder on the cut, making her yelp.
“Bastard,” she said.
“Whiner,” he shot back.
Collin appeared in the doorway. “There’s no phone so we can’t check in,” he said.
Jaime winced as Stephen pulled the edges of the cut together with the tape.
“We’ll sleep here and call first thing in the morning,” Stephen said.
“There’s only two double beds,” Collin said. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a coin, positioning it on his bent thumb. “Head’s gets the single. Tail’s gets her.”
They’ve got the sex factor in spades. But can love survive the “ex” factor?
Knowing the Ropes
© 2013 Teresa Noelle Roberts
Selene has harbored kinky, submissive fantasies most of her life, but her experience as a domestic abuse counselor leaves her leery of giving up that much control. Case in point: the ex-fiancé she didn’t love quite enough to test the limits of trust.
At a BDSM meet-and-greet, she sets out to learn how far is too far. Nick seems like the ideal dom to show her the ins and outs of ropes, floggers, and paddles—with no commitment clause.
After losing a sub he loved too much, Selene’s country girl common sense and smoking sensuality is like a dream that Nick never dared to have—a perfect blend of kink and long-term domestic bliss.
Yet it’s tough to figure out just how far they can push their limits when they’ve both agreed to a no-strings affair. Especially when an ex needs Nick’s muscle and Selene’s counseling skills to get out of a dangerous situation. By then it may be too late for love to survive all the things they’re afraid to say.
Warning: Sexy, kinky, geeky dominant guy. Smart submissive woman. Crazy ex. A little experimentation between girlfriends. And lots and lots of kinky sex.