Sunday Snippet: Ugly Drunk

September 15, 2013

Howdy,

Remember when I said I was ready to start marking the death toll on Sons of Anarchy? Totally didn't know it would include so many. Will have to wait until next week's post to note the number, if that's even possible. I admire Kurt Sutter's willingness to make a bold choice and stand by it. He always claims his show doesn't flinch from showing the ugly side of things and honestly, I'm thrilled to see what happens when something the club is involved in bites them on the ass. Hopefully I've made my thoughts clear without giving away too many details. J

Strike Back is almost halfway through its run and my head sorta spins with everything going on. It's one of the things I love about watching. Stonebridge better catch a break soon and he needs to figure out what the hell he got into when he slashed his arm open. Something tells me that seemingly small injury will end up being the key to everything about whatever attack is being planned.

GAH! My shows are eating up too much of my brain. LOL

Moving on…

Tonight's post is from Ugly Drunk, a short story where Pippa and Wood have to figure their roles out and how to mix business with pleasure. :D Another of my favorite tropes.

Here's the tagline:

Pippa Rice is a problem solver and when she takes a job at a local watering hole, her natural skill defuses quite a few tricky situations. Too bad she can't quite figure out how to fix her boss, Wood Finnian. The guy has more baggage than an airport, but Pippa isn't one to give up on people, ever.

And a snippety peek…

Pippa entered the darkened bar after cleaning the kitchen. She grabbed her coat and draped it over her shoulders, ready to exit and head home. The scrape and thud of a chair's legs hitting the floor had her turning towards the sound. Shit. Wood. Alone. Drinking whiskey? Vodka? Didn't matter what he imbibed, the damage would be done. Her shoulders slumped and she shook her jacket off, hanging it back up on the hook by the door then made her way to the lonely table illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window.

Wood faced away from her and she laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Wood, it's past closing. Kitchen's scoured and scrubbed. You need anything else?"

He huffed out a harsh breath. "Of course. How could I forget? The great Pippa Rice does it all and does it right." He poured another tumbler of vodka. "The one who makes no mistakes and gets the gold star." He glanced around. "Don't have one ready to give out, so you'll just have to leave empty-handed."

His words slurred a little and Pippa wondered how long he'd been sitting out in the bar while she finished up for the night. Judging by the almost empty bottle, he'd been there since last call.

She sighed. "You're ugly drunk, Wood. We should probably get you upstairs and into your bed." She grasped his arm, hoping to help him up and keep him steady.

Wood snorted. "Now she wants to drag me into the sack." He jerked away. "You know what, Pippa. I don't think so. I'm gonna sit right here and go from ugly to stupid drunk." He picked the tumbler up and drained half the contents. "Go. Away."

She couldn't leave him. The shit day combined with bad news about his brother. Yeah, not a good mix. She walked around the table and plopped down across from him. "I don't think so, Wood. If habit holds true, you'll hit stupid drunk and then trash the place. You can't really afford to replace everything."

He directed a scathing glance her way. "Nah, I'm not gonna trash the place. But after stupid comes mean and not even you can withstand the shit I'll throw your way."

Pippa tilted her head to the side. "Is that a challenge, Wood? Try me."

He laughed—empty and humorless. "Pippa, do not say something like 'try me' to a man who wants you as badly as I do. And never, ever think of me as a challenge. I'm not yours to fix, you made that very clear." He drained his glass. "Do us both a favor and get out. Now. Before I take your presence as an invitation."

Pippa leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not leaving. Say what you will." She dropped her hands and leaned forward. "Do what you will, but I'm staying."

Wood studied her for a moment then nodded slowly. "You're not a stupid woman, Pip. None of my trouble is gonna disappear because you offer a warm cunt to ease my hurt."

Pippa flinched, the crude reference stinging, but held her ground. "And you're a smart guy, Wood. You should know by now that being an asshat and a ginormous dickhead isn't going to send me running."

Wood moved fast, scooting his chair back and rising. "Fine." He nodded towards the steps. "Let's go." He swayed slightly but remained upright.

Finally. Progress. Pippa got up and eased around the table, wrapping an arm around his waist. She planned to haul his ass upstairs, dump him onto his bed, and head home. She got him up the steps and opened his door, dragging him in behind her. She glanced around, looking for his room and after finding it, started to lead him in the right direction. Wood stopped and kicked the door shut with his booted heel then grasped her hips, hauling her close. His head lowered and his lips meshed with hers, his tongue sliding over her bottom lip, thoroughly exploring her mouth. Her hands skimmed over his arms to wrap around his neck and she lost the ability to think coherent thoughts—after realizing her plan had gone straight to hell.

And she didn't care one damned bit.

Pippa will definitely care later, but even she has to throw caution to the wind sometimes. J

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin

Sunday Snippet: A Simple Thing

Hi!

Okay, I can't discuss Strike Back just yet, but I will say I love shows where NOBODY is safe. Speaking of no one being safe, Sons of Anarchy returns Tuesday and I'm ready to start marking the death toll. LOL

Now for something a little less morbid. J Tonight's post is from A Simple Thing, where a single kiss shouldn't be a big deal. But it is.

Here's the tagline:

River Cyd loses a bet and has to have a lip lock with Gus Berkeley. No big deal—they've shared them before. But the simple kiss goes from zero to smokin' in less than a second flat and River isn't quite sure when complicated became the norm between her and Gus.

And a snippety peek…

River stood frozen and uncertain. It should have been a simple thing. She lost a bet and had to kiss Gus. Not like she'd never done that before—with and without an audience.

So why did the thought freak her out? She completely discounted the fact she'd seen him in the shower last week and dreamed of him every night since. It had to be because Gus stood apart from everyone, over by the table beside the exit. He heard the bet. He couldn't have not heard it. Yet he didn't try to leave. Nope. He remained standing, fiddling with the coffee carafe, going nowhere.

She couldn't back down. Losing the bet—who knew Kat could actually pull off the tying a cherry stem into a knot with her tongue thing? River had to make good on her promise and have a lip-lock with Gus.

She exhaled slowly and nodded towards her audience. She walked over, figuring she'd give Gus a quick peck on the lips.

Grasping his arm, she gave it a squeeze. "Sorry, I hope you don't mind being a good sport." She tilted her chin and her plan for quick and easy went to hell.

The brief movement of her mouth over his didn't play out that way. She brushed her lips over his and wanted more. Meshing her mouth with his, her tongue slid past his lips, not what she'd planned, but oh… damn… it felt so good.

And he responded, exploring slowly, in no hurry for the embrace to end. It needed to stop, but her hands traveled upward, cupping his face, hauling him closer. The kiss deepened and she leaned into him, molding her body to his. She got completely lost in the moment… moments… minutes.

She didn't know how long they stood there, but one kiss slid into another, and another. Everything faded—the room full of people, the catcalls and whistles, nothing existed but her, and Gus, and a powerful need to see what else might happen.

When her hand slid down to his ass, he eased away, breaking contact.

His forehead rested against hers. "I'd be very willing to continue, but not in front of an audience." He spoke quietly so only she could hear.

River's face flamed hot, but not from embarrassment. The idea of acting out some of her recent dreams about him made her wet with anticipation. She wanted Gus and sort of didn't care, at the moment, about the fact they worked together. Hook-ups between co-workers didn't always end well, but the desire to see what happened outweighed her concern.

She leaned back to meet his gaze. "Wanna get out of here?" Her head jerked toward the still rowdy group. "They're not gonna miss us."

A slow, wide smile spread over Gus's face. "Upstairs? My place?" He turned and wrapped an arm around her waist. "It's close, convenient, and actually clean, for once." He directed her through the open doorway and around the side of the bar to the back steps.

River leaned into his warmth and nodded. "Yeah, upstairs is good." She glanced upward and the raw desire in his eyes made her hot with need. "Stop looking at me like that or we won't make it up the stairs."

Gus chuckled. "It's not my fault—you started it with that kiss."

River grinned and started up the first step. "Who knew, right?" She paused and angled her head around. "You're sure, yeah? I can leave now—no harm done."

Gus brushed past her. "Oh, I'm sure." He grabbed her hand, tugging her up behind him. "You and me? Are definitely finishing what we started."

He quickly unlocked the door and hurried her inside. Grasping her hips, he turned her, lowering his head to meet her mouth. His booted foot kicked the door shut and closed out everything but them and the rapidly building need arcing between them.

Gus broke the kiss and nodded toward the hallway. "Bedroom's that way." He grabbed her hand and led her in the direction.

River held back a shudder. She had a feeling Gus might just rock her world down to the foundation.

She couldn't wait to find out.

Heh, heh. And find out she does. Let's just leave it there, okay?

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin

Sunday Snippet: Selling Tickets

September 1, 2013

Hello!

Yeesh, first day of September. That means the holidays are just around the corner. I know, right? How is that possible? According to our local Dollar General, Halloween stuff has to be displayed before the kids even go back to school the third week of August. *shakes head* I fully expect to see Christmas stuff out within the next two weeks. *shudder*

Tonight's post isn't about the holidays—thank the universe. LOL Selling Tickets is about two friends who work together and know each other well. Sometimes that combination leads to a whole lot more. J

Here's the tagline:

Kurt Trevarthan owns a popular night club and trusts Winnie Clay, one of his oldest friends, to keep things running smoothly. He never dreams he'll have to rely on her when his old man shows up—after a decade away—on the anniversary of Kurt's mom's death, but Winnie comes through and keeps the Trevarthan men from killing each other.

And a snippety peek…

"Move along. Nothing to see here, people." Winnie elbowed her way through the crowd towards the back exit, making room for Kurt.

Kurt dragged his drunken father, watching the man carefully, trying to make sure he didn't throw any punches. He totally didn't need a police raid on top of his dad's antics. Winnie hit the release for the back exit and threw the door open, propping it with her shoulder. "Get out of the way. We're not selling tickets. Geez, you idiots."

She lifted a hand and rubbed at her temples, the thumping bass of the DJ's jam probably adding to her headache. Kurt got behind his dad and marched him outside, making a sharp left at the exit. Winnie slammed the door shut and secured the lock so no one could follow.

Ken mumbled. "What's goin' on?" He glanced around, shivering. "It's cold out here. Wanna go back inside."

He started to turn around but Kurt blocked his path.

"I don't think so, Dad." He nudged Ken to the left, directing him towards the steps leading to his office—and sanctuary.

Winnie clamped her hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Don't, Kurt. Let me get my car and I'll drive him home. Don't let him invade your space. Not tonight."

Kurt shot her a quick look. "No way, Win. You know what he's like when he gets this drunk. You'd be lucky to make it out of the parking lot."

Winnie sighed. "Then let me help you get him down the steps."

She moved forward and got a good grip on Ken's arm. Kurt didn't argue. His old man made a heavy burden.

And Winnie's presence might just keep Kurt from trying to murder the elder Trevarthan.

Kurt grunted when his dad lurched sideways. "Ten years, Win. It's been a damned decade since I've seen the guy." He glanced across the stairwell. "Why now? And how the hell did he find me?"

Winnie got a better hold on Ken, propping her shoulder under his armpit. "You're not that hard track, Kurt. Your name's been attached to everything from the legal documents to set this place up to the transfer of ownership of the building. Any moron with access to public records could find you."

Kurt growled. "Remind me to listen to you next time, okay?" He stopped at the bottom of the steps and keyed his security code into the panel on the wall.

The door snicked open and Kurt got behind his old man and gave him a shove through the opening. Ken stumbled and dropped to his knees. Winnie stepped inside and blocked Kurt's entry.

"Uh uh. You go back up and keep things hopping. I'll deal with your dad." She pressed her hand against his chest and pushed.

Kurt sighed. "I can't ask you to stay down here, Win."

She snorted. "You're not. I'm volunteering." She grabbed hold of the heavy steel door. "Your face is the one they'll need to see. Otherwise your opening night will be all about damage control instead of celebration."

Kurt shot a glance toward his dad. "Not much to celebrate when the old man shows up."

Winnie moved forward, partially closing the door behind her. "Forget your dad. Remember your mom and why you chose tonight as opening night."

Kurt smiled and nodded. "I named the place after her. To honor her life."

Winnie grinned. "So go honor it."

Kurt grasped her hand. "Thanks, Win. I'll be down right after closing."

Wait until Kurt finds out Winnie is the one who brought his dad to town. He's not going to be a happy fellow. J

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin

Sunday Snippet: Throw in the Towel

Greetings!

It's been a truly long week, but Strike Back remains a bright spot. I'm utterly fascinated by Dalton and how much she's crossing the line (if there is a line LOL)

I've also been rewatching Farscape on Pivot. I love it when newish channels air one of my favorite shows. Farscape ranks in my top five of all time winners.

Tonight's post is from a fun little romp. Throw in the Towel has humor, sexiness, and well, lots of mud. LOL

Here's the tagline:

Taurin Beach and Craig Wallmartin are top competitors on the mud run circuit. When Craig is caught by a reporter with nothing but a towel, it gives Taurin the perfect idea for catching his attention and finally getting what she wants. Him.

And the snippety peek…

"You really need to stop it with the dinky towel thing, Taurin." Craig blocked her path, not letting her leave the room.

She smirked. "Ah, Craig. I thought you liked almost showing everything."

Craig snorted. "You know mine was more accident than anything. Not my fault that stupid lady reporter shoved a microphone in my face before he had a chance to dry off." Taurin tilted her head sideways. "What's your problem, really?"

He pinned her with his gaze. "You're walking around half naked and it's like begging for trouble."

Taurin tsked. "You're not supposed to look, Craig. No one else is."

Craig snorted. "Yes, they are." No unspoken agreement would keep any red-blooded male from sneaking a look.

Taurin lifted a brow. "And you know this, how exactly?"

Craig pressed his lips together. Anything he said would get twisted by her bizarre sense of humor.

Taurin laughed. "Oh, my God, you're acting as the peeping police, now?"

Hell, he didn't have to speak for her to mangle the sentiment behind his actions.

He shrugged. "Someone has to watch out for you. You're too self-absorbed to pay attention."

Taurin let the towel slip a little and invaded his personal space. "Maybe you're just too slow to realize there's a specific someone whose attention I want."

Craig frowned. "Who?" Hell, it figured.

"Come on, Craig. Don't you remember third grade?" The terrycloth fabric slipped a little lower, revealing more skin. "What did girls do when they wanted a boy's attention?"

Craig's mouth opened…and closed again.

She chuckled. "Yeah, you get it now, right?" The towel dropped even lower, gaping open.

He reached forward, flicking the edge from her grip. The fabric dropped, pooling at her feet.

His fingers trailed down her shoulder, raising goose bumps on her flesh. "Why the subterfuge? All you had to do was say something."

Taurin rolled her eyes. "Where's the fun in that?" Stepping forward, she grabbed his shirt in her hands, tugging him inside the room. "I'm naked and you're not. Why not close the door and see what other entertaining things we can come up with?"

Craig grinned, kicking the door shut with his foot. "I'm definitely game for that."

Craig is game for a whole lot more, too. And he'll most definitely show Taurin how much of a good time she can have with him. :D

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin

Sunday Snippet: Pregnant Pause

Hi,

I'm going to bore everyone with all my Strike Back talk, but holy hell, the hits keep coming. Poor Scott can't catch a break. I do have one wild hair theory of what I want for him at the end of the show's run, but I'll keep mum so I don't jinx it. :D

Speaking of jinxes, in Pregnant Pause, Nora and Logan sort of jinx themselves when they can't keep their hands off each other and their protection fails. They're in a very remote location and the area makes their situation rather interesting.

Here's the tagline:

Nora Dunne and Logan Rider are wildly attracted to each other and doing a stint in a remote location for a research project. When sexual tension gets in the way of the work, their decision to act on the magnetic pull leads to unexpected consequences.

And a snippety peek…

Logan stopped cross-checking his samples. "You're what?" He couldn't have heard her right.

Nora repeated her announcement. "I'm pregnant—as in knocked up, bun in the oven." She shuddered. "You know, with child."

Logan carefully set his work aside and made his way to her station. "But…" He almost asked how, but hell, he knew how. "God. From one time?"

Her lips turned up in a sneer. "Yep." She shot her gaze sideways. "You've got some pretty potent sperm there, Logan."

He sank down beside her. "Shit." His shoulders slumped. "What are we gonna do?"

She raised a brow. "We?"

He corrected. "Sorry. What are you gonna do?"

Her jaw tightened and a muscle ticked in her cheek. Dammit, he had no idea how to handle the news let alone her. Could she maybe cut him some slack?

He blew out a hard breath, and tried again. "What do you want to do?"

Nora shook her head. "I have no idea."

He shot up and paced. "Well, hell, Nora. That helps so much." He stopped. "Look, I'm sorry. I honestly don't have a clue how to respond here, but let me be clear…" He sat down again. "Whatever I can do, I'll do. Whatever you decide, I'll support. If you need help, ask. If you wanna shove my head up my ass, fine, I don't blame you, but don't try it." His hand covered hers. "I mean we're basically stuck here and you're going to need someone to help out no matter what you decide. I'm your guy."

She rolled her eyes. "Obviously."

His shoulders slumped. Did she have to do the quippy comeback thing all the time?

Nora turned her palm up and laced their fingers together. "I'm sorry. I get snarky when I'm off balance and, well, is it too early to blame hormones?"

He chuckled, but said nothing.

She squeezed his hand. "Thank you. For not freaking out or losing your mind." Her head lowered to his shoulder. "And I appreciate everything you said. We've got some time to make decisions." She emphasized the 'we' part. "Give me a day to get my head on semi-straight and we'll sit down and figure everything out, okay?"

He wrapped an arm around her waist. "Yeah, okay." He loosened his grip and stood. "Let me give you some space, alone time, whatever you want to call it. I'll finish up the checks and get the data catalogued."

Nora's lips quirked. "And then you can try to wrap your head around everything, too, once you've finished." She got up and pushed the work bench under her lab table. "I think I'll go see what's available in the food locker and make some dinner."

Logan kept his mouth from dropping open and nodded. Nora? Volunteering to cook? Maybe she did have some crazy hormonal thing going on already.

Laughing, he went back to his work area, grabbed a sample, and put the slide under the microscope.

I'm not completely sure where Nora and Logan will end up or how they're work out their unexpected glitch, but I'm patiently waiting on the sages to whisper in my ear. J

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin

Sunday Snippet: Quitters Never Cheat

Hello,

It's BACK! Strike Back premiered Friday night and within two minutes I wanted to throw stuff at the TV. That's a great show, folks!! LOL

Tonight's post is from Quitters Never Cheat and it doesn't really tie into one of my favorite television shows other than the fact that my two awesome soldiers don't tend to string their sleeping partners along. This is a lesson Robbin could stand to learn. J

Here's the tagline:

Robbin Rhayne, a talented sculptor, believes she has to suffer for her art. Ewan Arthur makes her almost reconsider the concept—the sex is great—until he wants more and she won't commit. Several years later she runs into Ewan again and the spark is still there…too bad they're both in relationships with other people.

And the snippety peek…

Robbin grabbed Ewan's face and mashed her lips against his. He resisted for a moment then grasped her hips, pulling them flush against his groin. The rigid line of flesh nestled between them had Robbin getting wet with anticipation. He still reacted to her and she wanted him buried deep as soon as possible.

She thought it would happen when he pinned her shoulders to the wall, his hand drifting up to cup a breast. Her nipple responded, tingling under his touch. Two seconds later he tore his mouth from hers and stumbled back and away.

Breathing harshly, he rasped. "What are we doing here, Robbin?"

Biting back a disappointed moan, she answered with a question. "Why did you stop? I thought you were game for this?"

He snorted. "I was at first. Then I remembered it's a thing for you. Doing the unexpected and unacceptable and getting away with it."

She glanced away. "Sometimes it is." She met his gaze again. "There's nothing wrong with that. There's no reason you and I can't have a little fun when we're both bored out of our minds. We used to do this kind of thing all the time and get away with it."

Disappointment filled his gaze. "You know, Robbin, it's not about getting away with it. It never was." He turned and paced back and forth. "Sure, we had sex in some crazy places and took chances with getting caught, but it was never about the risk involved—until I asked for more." He stopped and faced her. "You couldn't deal with what you felt so you ran. And that's okay." He waved his hand between them. "But this…you and me, right now…not gonna happen."

She hated how damned accurately he'd pegged her. And she wanted to lash out.

She sneered. "Too afraid to cheat, Ewan? Think Stephie will cut your balls off?" Why not go for the jugular?

He slowly inclined his head. "You know what? I would cheat. If I thought it would go anywhere. But I won't win." He took a step forward, getting up close and personal again. "And I play for keeps. So no. I'm not gonna take the risk." He jabbed a finger in her shoulder. "And that's something you know all about, so shut the hell up and walk away now."

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "Oh, I don't think so, Ewan. I'm staying right here."

He shrugged. "Fine. I'll leave." He leaned in close. "But remember this. Quitters never cheat, Robbin. And they don't win. Ever." Reaching past her, he opened the door and exited the storage building.

Robbin closed her eyes, sinking slowly to the floor and brought her knees up. Wrapping her arms around them, she rested her forehead against her legs. She so deserved his scorn. What the hell had she been thinking?

She hadn't been.

Seeing him again? Fuck. It reminded her of what she gave up when she walked out. Five minutes in the same space and she wanted him more now than she had then. And the stupid reason why? He knew exactly what he wanted and wouldn't accept anything less. He hadn't changed much. Grown stronger in his conviction and had no problem letting her know.

Damned if she didn't like it. But his words haunted her. Quitters never cheat, meaning they can't. Not really. And if they're always leaving the playing field, they can't win.

She'd left him once, and until she played by his rules, she'd never win him again.

Slumped forward, hands balled into fists at her sides, she accepted the loss, defeat's bitterness churning in her gut.

Don't worry, Robbin won't stay down long, but she does have one more trial by fire to get through. And Ewan will witness the event up close and personal.

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin

Sunday Snippet: One Time Thing

August 4, 2013

I gotta say we're having the most incredible weather right now. August in Ohio tends to be hot, sticky, humid, sweltering, and generally horrible. We're four days into the month and haven't hit above eighty degrees. It's honestly been the most pleasant summer I can remember, even with a buttload of rain. J

On a more random note, I'm actually rather 'meh' about the choice for the twelfth doctor. In all honesty, it's going to be hard for me to picture someone who had a prominent role on Torchwood—a sister show of Who—as anyone BUT that character. And the guy had a featured guest role in the Pompeii episode, so again, it effs up my continuity. And yeah, yeah, Eve Miles had a featured guest role on Who and went on to play Gwen, so what the hell am I bitching about, right? I guess it's because she didn't end up playing a third role in both shows.

Enough about television. LOL

Tonight's post is from One Time Thing, a novella that includes one of my kinky tropes. I have a strong desire to write forbidden love that starts out dirty!bad!wrong but ends up being the greatest thing between the hero and heroine. Sadly, someone almost always gets hurt, but seeing how the couple deals with that fallout is part of the allure, IMO. J

Here's a tagline:

Sometimes a wicked powerful attraction isn't always a good thing. Vickie South and Grant Magnus have an instant spark, but Vickie is dating Grant's best friend. A stormy night and loss of power set the stage, and the duo can't resist the strong pull, which makes for an awkward situation all around.

And a snippety peek…

Vickie couldn't get Grant out of her head and reliving the night they spent together messed things up with Brent. She blamed the alcohol. If she'd been sober, she could recall their wild romp with clarity and put it aside, pulling it out only when she needed a fantasy moment for herself. Instead she had fuzzy recollections of lips on skin and heated whispers of more, now, yes, and don't stop. She got hot and wet every damn time she thought about Grant Magnus, and it had to stop.

She rolled to a halt outside his house, but left the engine running, and hoped her brain would finally give it a rest. Instead, a flash of memory—Grant's hair-roughened thighs feeling perfect under her ass—had her shutting off the car and shoving the door open. Cursing him and hating herself, she grabbed her keys, slammed the door shut, and made her way up the short walkway to his front door. Fisting her hand, she knocked then stepped back, almost praying he wouldn't answer. Two seconds later, the door swung open and Grant filled the space, looking every bit as disgusted as she felt.

He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a hard glare. "Why are you here?"

Her tongue darted out and flicked over her bottom lip. Armed with nothing but the insane desire to drive him from her mind, she got straight to the heart of the matter.

She dropped it on him point blank. "I want another night—no storm, no power outage, no alcohol—to get you out of my system."

His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Her fingers itched to smack him. "Because I can't stop thinking about it, you, and it's driving me insane."

He shook his head. "Not my problem. And not gonna happen." He stepped back and grabbed the door, ready to close it.

She braced a hand on the wood surface. "Tell me you're not thinking about it…or me. Tell me. Can you do that?"

Grant clamped his mouth shut and his lips thinned to a flat line, but he didn't speak. Vickie pushed past him and entered the house. "I knew it couldn't just be me." She swung around and faced him. "One night. That's it, I swear."

Grant kicked the door shut. "Really? Are you sure about that?" He raked a hand through his hair. "Tell me, Vickie, what if you and Brent get married? What are you gonna do if someone else turns your head? Another one night deal to get him out of your system, too?"

Her face heated, from anger and embarrassment. She didn't want him to know how deeply he'd affected her. Hell, she barely wanted to admit the power he had to invade her thoughts on a regular basis.

But she answered with brutal honesty. "Nobody's ever gotten under my skin before." She met and held his gaze. "I doubt anyone else ever will."

Including Brent. She didn't say it, wouldn't speak it aloud, but Grant acknowledged the unspoken statement with a frustrated growl and stalked past her, pacing back and forth.

He stopped and pinned her with his gaze. "You're asking me to break faith with one of my best friends."

She nodded. "I know." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "What the hell am I doing here?"

Grant answered quietly. "I don't know, Vickie. I really don't."

Vickie tilted her head to the side and studied him. His face and eyes held the same desire and want hers did. How stupid were they to even consider something so stupid? She'd asked the same question a million times on the way to his house and no magical answer arrived to stop her.

She pushed for more. "Yet here I stand." Stark and emotionally naked. "What do we do?"

Grant didn't reply, but he didn't glance away either. Her gut churned and she wanted him to throw her out or drag her to his bed—something, anything—to break the spell of lust she'd lived with since the night of the storm.

His mouth opened then closed and he clamped his lips together. Dammit. Make a move. Or maybe he had, and she needed to figure it out. She cocked her head again and he didn't move, hardly even blinked.

She exhaled slowly. "Right. I get it. Forget I came." She turned toward the door and took a step forward.

"Vickie, wait." He strode over and grasped her arm. "I'm shit for even saying this, but you're not wrong. I haven't thought of anything else since we hooked up." His hand slid downward coming to rest on her wrist. "But it's gotta be a one-time thing. One and done. Nothing more."

Vickie held back a shudder. "One time. Got it." She met his gaze. "That's all it's gonna take."

She hoped.

Grant's head lowered and he claimed her mouth, his tongue sliding past her lips to thoroughly explore. Vickie grabbed his shirt with both hands, hauling him close then wrapped her arms around his waist. Grant cupped her ass with one hand and swung his other arm under her legs, lifting her with ease then headed toward his bedroom.

A wave of heat flared and Vickie had a sinking feeling one time would never be enough.

Poor Vickie, she won't be wrong about once never being enough. J But Grant is going to do his level best to stick to the bargain. LOL

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin