Blurb
During
a freak summer storm, screenwriter and heiress, Cara Kelly and movie producer,
Levi Callister are marooned alone for days in a mansion used as the set for an
erotic film series.
When
Levi discovers Cara sleeping naked in one of the sensuously themed rooms, the
two embark on a collision course that can only end up in flagrante.
Cara
is a nomadic loner, too afraid to commit to family, a home—or even a potted
begonia.
Levi
is a player—a womanizer and entrepreneur. He needs a lot of money, fast.
So, when sparks fly between
the unlikely pair both in and outside of the various sexily-decorated bedrooms,
Cara can’t help wondering if Levi’s insatiable interest in her is real—or if
it’s just her missing inheritance he’s chasing.
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Excerpt
She
was practically naked—the last pastel pink scrap of lace hid nothing. He could
see, touch, taste everything. And yet there was something incredibly intimate
and romantic about the slide of his fingers beneath the waistband of her
panties, the slow drift of lace and fingertips over her thighs, the feel of his
breath against her center.
She
was desperately aroused, screamingly eager, wet and hot and throbbing for him.
Her clit was puckered tight and the muscles inside her were clenched with
anticipation.
He
let her panties slither to her ankles, clasped the cheeks of her butt, and
pressed his scorching mouth hard and without warning against her wet sex. His
lips were apart and he sucked her inside his mouth—the whole plump folded core
of her—and his tongue probed unerringly to her clitoris. The feel of his mouth
was the most incredible pressure she had ever experienced. The fast, sure
flicking of his tongue inside the full suckling of his lips almost drove her
out of her mind. She had not known there was pleasure like this to be had.
Her
whole body was flushed with longing, her breath was growing irregular, and her
pulse was breakdancing all over the place. She could feel the tantalizing edges
of orgasm fluttering around the limits of her excitement. But she needed more.
Something to tip her over that exquisite, elusive precipice.
“More...”
she gasped, clutching at his shoulders as he pressed his face between her
thighs, maintaining her pleasure. But even as she begged, she had no idea how
he could deliver what she needed. His ministrations were already utterly and
deliciously absorbing.
She
clung to him, a single drop of perspiration trickling between her engorged
breasts as she gasped her need.
“Please…”
The word was thin and strangled. She wasn’t even sure what she was asking for.
He
slid his right hand from her buttocks around her hip and across her thigh. With
nothing more than a gesture, he commanded her thighs apart and, lost in a
maelstrom of lust, she mindlessly acquiesced. She felt utterly wanton standing
before this man, legs spread while he thrilled her with his talented mouth, his
hand stroking relentlessly up and down her thighs.
His
fingers traveled lightly, teasingly, sometimes grazing the trimmed hair at her
center, occasionally brushing the fleshy entrance to her feminine core.
She
could barely catch her breath now and she felt dizzy. Her throat was clamped
shut and the razzle-dazzle of dancing lights behind her eyelids told her she
was close to losing consciousness. She was no longer holding his shoulders for
balance and encouragement. Instead, her fingers dug into his skin for support,
and as a desperate plea for him to take her where she needed to go.
“Please,
Levi, please...”
He
didn’t hesitate. On the next upstroke between her thighs, he drove his finger
deep into her sex. Plunging the digit once, twice, thrice into her soaked and
scorching channel.
And
then she flew apart. The orgasm rocketed through her like a searing star
shower. There was no room for thought. Her release was pure sensation, so
intense it was almost painful, so complete it was practically spiritual. The
spasms rocked the depths of her very being and even as they began to subside,
she knew what Levi had given her was a gift both precious and rare, and that
the experience had changed her so profoundly there was no return.
Gently,
lovingly, he helped her to the bed, easing her quaking body down on the silken
covers, sliding beside her and gathering her in his arms. Slowly, as though
from far, far away, she came back to herself. First she noticed the warmth of
his body in the cool air of the room, the scuff his body hair against her
smooth skin, the soothing glide of his fingertips over her quivering arm and
her hip. His heartbeat beneath her ear was a perfect counterpoint to the rain
thrumming against the window. His breath tasted faintly of mint and wine and
her own musk. Her breathing slowed to match his lungs’ steady rhythm and her
trembling began to abate.
“You
look beautiful there,” he murmured against her hair. “Your golden hair spread
all across the bed, your skin glowing, your lips swollen...”
His
hands emphasized his words, stroking her body more intently as he spoke. Of
their own volition, her fingers followed suit, trailing over his skin,
mindlessly exploring the bulges and hollows of his body. He shivered when her
short fingernails skimmed his nipple, gasped when she trailed her index finger
down his hip toward the waistband of his briefs.
There
was no mistaking his arousal. The thick length of him spasmed every time her
hand drew close, and there was a tell-tale spot of dampness near the tip.
Enjoying his responses, she teasingly drew her fingers around his belly and
down the edges of his jutting hipbones, across the elastic of his underwear and
up and down the arrow of hair between his navel and the stretch of blue fabric.
He hissed and growled and squirmed under her ministrations.
“You
are going to drive me completely insane,” he ground out, but he made no move to
hurry her or change her agenda. She could see the pulse leaping at his throat,
the desperate bob of his Adam’s apple, the sheen of sweat glistening on his
brow.
She
smiled saccharine sweetly at him and deliberately brushed her hand over the
bulge in his pants.
“Really?”
Cara said. She did it again. “I’m so sorry...”
“Funny,
Cara, you don’t sound very sorry.”
Was
he actually panting?
She
quirked an eyebrow, her gaze all delighted mischief. “It’s hard to be sorry
when there’s this tempting package right in front of me, just begging to be
unwrapped.”
“If
you’d like to unwrap it, Cara, be my guest.”
“Oh,
I’ll unwrap it all right, but I like to open my presents in my own sweet time.
I enjoy prolonging the anticipation.”
She
scuttled up his body and swallowed his groan in her mouth from her position
beside him. The taste of him was complex and addictive. His lips were clever
and intuitive. His tongue was thorough and tempting. Cara felt as though she
could stay here, kissing like this, lost in Levi forever.
Author bio
In between writing romantic stories, Rosie Vanyon is
building a house on a hillside with stunning mountain views in her childhood
home, Tasmania. She’s looking forward to sharing her dream house with her
high-maintenance dog and a couple of naughty-but-smoochy cats. She has a
Creative Arts degree and a grown-up job in financial services. Rosie has been a
writer and editor in fields as diverse as motoring, travel and tax. She is
relieved and elated to (once again) let loose her ‘romance author’ alter-ego.
At last, she is following her heart.
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