Lipstick on His Collar (11 page)

Ex-cop Mateo is celebrating one hell of an anniversary: eight months since he was declared unfit for duty. When a delicate beauty boldly propositions him in a bar, he chooses to lose himself in her body rather than lose his mind to alcohol. This choice comes back to haunt him when he’s hired to protect a prima ballerina who’s been receiving threats.

Despite her shock at seeing him again, Lynn must not allow their intense attraction—or any creepy fan letters—to undermine her performance. Mateo can’t reconcile this coldly focused dancer with the passionate woman who seduced him. Yet he sees fire under the ice, pain hidden by the smooth mask of perfection.

The vivid memory of their entwined bodies wars with the job at hand, but he must keep Lynn safe—regardless of the cost. The most difficult challenge, however, will be keeping his hands to himself.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Pas de Deux:

Her legs ready to give out, Lynn only wanted to reach her dressing room and sit for a small precious second. Sit and not move a single inch. She went straight for her stash, barely chewing the first chocolate before tearing open another one and actually biting off a piece. It hurt to chew. Her whole body was aching. A month until opening night, and she wasn’t sure she had the stamina to carry it. Six different duets, each of them grueling. Her aching feet throbbed at the mere thought.

She took another piece, letting the taste melt on her tongue before she swallowed. A tub filled to the brim with soothing hot water was just a few minutes away. She simply had to find the strength to get her body up and moving, and face Mateo in the hallway. She’d seen him watch her with those cool onyx eyes. Dark gaze, dark clothes that should have been pretentious yet weren’t.

Pushing the thought of him away, Lynn thought about soaking in a tub until her fingers wrinkled. Just a few minutes more. The quick knock on the door made her softly groan. She didn’t want to put on a bright face, didn’t think she had the strength for it. Another piece of Midnight Dark. as the door swung open.

“I didn’t say come in,” she muttered with a mouthful of chocolate just as Mateo’s gaze focused in on the bag of Ghirardelli’s.

“You ready?”

She was too tired to think about it. “I need a couple of minutes more.”

“You tried to get rid of me.” Cool voice, his hands tucked in his pockets. Again her dressing room seemed much too small with him inside.

“I have an alarm set up and there’ve been no more letters.” And at this point she was more nervous around Mateo than some anonymous creep. “I don’t think I need you…” She paused and started over. “I don’t think I need a bodyguard anymore. I can ask Simon to walk me home. Or André.”

“We both know that’s not why you wanted to get rid of me.” Those cool dark eyes were merciless.

“Maybe. It doesn’t matter now.” She didn’t have the strength to shrug. “Give me a few more minutes.”

“Your leg bothering you?”

“It’s fine.” Even her skin was hurting. Only a few more minutes and she could drown in hot water and try to forget she’d have to do it all again tomorrow.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” His voice went soft, nearly soothing.

“Do what?”

“You’re exhausted. You’re in pain. You work like a damned horse.” If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of baffled respect in that gruff tone.

“It’s what I do.” Sometimes she hated it. “I’ve worked for it my whole life.” After the surgery, when she was told there was a chance she wouldn’t dance again, the searing panic had been accompanied by a tiny guilty kernel of relief.

“You ever wanted to do something else?”

Because he already knew her dirty secret, Lynn reached into the bag of chocolates. Since he was here and she didn’t want to leave just yet she offered him a blue-wrapped piece. His fingers brushed over her palm, his touch brief and electrifying. Even through aching muscles, she felt a tiny coiling of heat.

“I never thought about doing anything else.” She was never allowed to. The rich dark taste of chocolate flooded her taste buds. “My family sent me here to dance.”

“Where are your parents now?”

“Still back in Ukraine.” They used to come for every big show. Now, she was lucky if they made it here once in three years. And Aunt Maria was too busy taking care of her ailing mother. Sacrifices. Always sacrifices.

“My mother hated it when I became a cop.” His eyes were distant in the mirror.

“Really?” She hadn’t known he was a cop. She’d slept with him and barely knew him. “You were a policeman?”

He nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

“You miss it?”

“Yeah.” He stood. “Let’s go.”

Discipline had been ingrained in her for years. She stood despite the screaming protests of her muscles, but when he took her bag she didn’t say a thing.

The ride home smelled like cigarettes and leather. The short walk to her door was just a blur.

“Go relax.” Mateo walked in after her as she struggled to remember the alarm code. Not even thinking to protest that he knew the code, Lynn staggered into the bathroom to find hot water bliss.

Warmth seeped into her muscles and had her melting in relief. She didn’t bother with salts or bath bubbles, just sank into the small claw-footed tub and let the water pour over her and soothe the pains.

When he walked in with a glass full of something orange, she didn’t have the energy to hide her body from his gaze.

“You’ll scald yourself.”

“It feels good.”

He sat on the white edge of the tub. Somehow it wasn’t strange having him here. “Drink this.”

Moving her arm was too much effort. “What is it?”

“Orange juice.”

“I’ll drop it.”

He didn’t argue. Instead he brought the glass close to her lips.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” Since the glass was there, nearly touching her lips, she took a long cold sip.

“Tell me to go.” Those onyx eyes challenged her to do just that while she was naked in hot water drinking orange juice.

She didn’t have the energy to flush.

Because it tasted good and all of a sudden she was thirsty, Lynn gulped the juice. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said again and leaned back in the hot and churning water.

When she opened her eyes, he stood holding a huge green towel.

“Why are you doing this?” She sounded like a cranky child. Because of it, she made the effort to stand up and let him drape the towel around her, his movements gentle as he rubbed the moisture off her skin. “Why are you taking care of me?”

“Somebody has to.” He carried her out of the steam-filled bathroom, his arms strong and secure around her. She didn’t have to pose, to lock her feet, do anything but simply put her forehead on his shoulder and be carried. He laid her face down on the bed.

“I’m too tired for sex games.” Except she felt a low tug of arousal lazily floating in her veins.

Warm palms cradled her feet. “I had another game in mind.” His breath softly caressed her skin.

He pressed a thumb into the aching arch of her left foot, gently but firmly squeezed and rubbed before giving the same treatment to her other foot. They felt tiny inside his hands, dainty and female, and when he pushed to have her flex her toes, she let herself be pampered. Just this once.

His hands continued upward, pressing into the muscles of her calves, the inside of her knees, her thighs. She stiffened when his fingers softy traced over the scar above her knee. Then she felt his lips over it, tracing it, as if soothing it with soft, soft kisses.

Desire coiled harder in her belly.

She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to burst the moment. Instead she spread her thighs apart and softly said his name. “Mateo.”

“Are you sure you want this?”

She wasn’t sure about anything except for this. “I am.”

In the warm silence, he traced slow open-mouthed kisses over the back of her thighs, moving higher towards her buttocks. His hands were on her calves, stroking the sensitive skin with light teasing caresses.

A shudder rippled through her as his lips touched a tender spot just below her spine, lingered there before continuing the journey upwards, each kiss along her back a sensual delicious touch. Another shiver when he paused between her shoulder blades to lightly scrape his teeth over her skin, then kiss away the tiny sting that added a small edge of pain to the sweetness of pleasure.

His hands tenderly palmed the soft globes of her buttocks before leaving her skin. Foil ripped. Then his weight pressed into her, covering her with warmth, the tip of him probing inside her.

She lifted up her hips and turned her head so she could see them in the mirror, his muscles taut as he loomed over her with his arms on each side of her shoulders, a tiny cross hanging down from his neck.

A soft and shallow penetration. A slow withdrawal so he could start again, pushing in deeper with each stroke, riding her soft and tender, filling her with his body, caressing her with his cock.

“Is this what you want,
preciosa
?”

She fisted her hands in the sheet, as that hard muscled body covered her pale skin.

He slowed his strokes, just pulsed inside her wet slick heat. “Tell me you want this.”

“Yes.” She couldn’t breathe. “I want this.”

A slow glide of his cock. “Tell me to fuck you.”

“Yes. Do it.”

His hands massaged her buttocks, spread them apart so that he could trace a wicked line right on the crease. She shuddered at his touch, watching him in the mirror.

“Tell me to fuck you.” Low rough words.

She dragged in liquid air. “Fuck me.”

Lipstick on His Collar

Inez Kelley

He never thought his next wildfire would be wearing a red dress.

“
Make me your goddess and I’ll take you to heaven.
”

This sultry promise sparks a scorching, unforgettable one-night stand. The next morning Bram Winters awakes with a hickey and a head full of wicked memories—alone. His nameless goddess is gone without a trace, along with his shirt. And his heart.

Five months later, he stumbles across his mystery lady in a Laundromat, but she still won’t give up her name. Worse, she begs him to leave, no questions asked. Once he catches the spark of terror in her eyes, though, his firefighter training takes over—and he digs in for the duration.

Lady never wanted Bram to see her life’s ugly underside, but it’s too late—his socks are already in the washer. He was supposed to be her declaration of independence from her unstable ex, a bittersweet memory to carry into her new life.

Except the ex continues to stalks her. And Bram’s reappearance sends her emotions and desires tumbling over the edge. As the minutes wear on, sexual tension rises faster than the steam from a hot water wash.

And Lady’s ex watches from the shadows, growing more furious by the minute…

Warning: Scorching sex, icy scissor play and an anonymous woman taking a wet slide down one hot ex-fireman’s pole. Beware of hot flashes and spontaneous combustion. Correct change not required.

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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

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Lipstick on His Collar

Copyright © 2010 by Inez Kelley

ISBN: 978-1-60928-250-9

Edited by Anne Scott

Cover by Angela Waters

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: November 2010

www.samhainpublishing.com