London Falling (30 page)

At twenty-eight I considered myself a connoisseur of beautiful women. I’d never had to try to gain a woman’s affection. I’d been told plenty that my good looks were a menace. Even had a hoard of women claim to love me over the years. Not once did I ever feel that a woman was out of my league.

Until now.

The woman’s body was to die for. I watched through the glass as she moved fluidly from her desk, to a file cabinet, and back around. Seemed she was preparing some packets. Her movements were quick, efficient and laser focused on the task. I hadn’t expected
this
woman when I’d arrived. Yes, she was young. That could be easily determined by her unlined, dewy pale skin. However, I wasn’t prepared for her to be gorgeous… magnificent really. Her hair was the color of a roasting chestnut. Not quite brown, or blonde but more a comingling of all the colors that made Fall my favorite season.

As I watched her work, my body warmed, skin feeling unbearably tight, confined by the three-piece suit I’d donned. She wore a mid-length skirt that barely kissed her knee. I’d heard them referred to as a “pencil skirt” though I hadn’t the slightest bloody idea why. A pencil noted a thin, straight, writing instrument. This woman was slight, yet curvy in all the places that counted, with the tiniest speck of a waist. The heels she had on were attached to toned calves, good God the heels were the skinniest, sexiest spikes. I could imagine those “shag me shoes” around my waist, digging straight into the tender skin of my arse as I worked her over.

Basically she had the body of a Playboy model, her breasts undoubtedly large but covered demurely behind a fitted top that only showed their essence when she bent over to retrieve another page for her folders. Christ, the more I looked my fill the harder I got. It took Herculean effort to not stride in and set a hand to that tight arse and show her exactly what I’d like to do to her.

I pulled my mind out of the gutter and straightened my back taking the handle for the door and entering. She looked up, the perfect globes of her breasts straining against the material as she stared. Her lips were full and glistened like a wet, ripened strawberry. Edible as they looked, that wasn’t what drew me in. It was her eyes. They were green but almost yellow, catlike as they assessed me. A color I’d not ever been privy to, and I’d dated a lot of women. Stared into the eyes of many young women as I shagged them into oblivion. Nothing in my past came close to these.

She stood up and I almost cursed the loss of seeing directly down her shirt to her perfect tits, until she took it up a notch and smiled. A genuine how do you do--nice to meet you--I’m a good person that actually gives a shite about other people kind of smile. It made me feel vulnerable, a kick off my game. One thing about New York, you didn’t often meet a genuine person. An honest person. She may be just one in the eight million that lived here.

“I’m Cami. Mr. Walker, right?” she held out her hand. I grasped it with both of mine, turned it over and kissed her wrist. She gasped when my lips touched her.

“Aren’t you just the most precious thing.” I said placing one last kiss to her pale wrist. The skin was so delicate I could see the lifeblood of her veins, the blue such a contrast to her white skin. Something carnal, animalistic in me twitched at the sight.

Cami tilted her head as I let her hand go. “I’ve never had anyone kiss my wrist before. Is that a cultural thing?” Such a sweet, innocent soul.

“No.” My eyes took in every inch of her spectacular body from the tips of her four inch heels to the top of her flowing locks. “One look at you and I knew I needed to have my lips on you.” Her mouth opened and she bit the bottom full one, sending a hot jolt of lust straight to my groin.

“Okay, well then,” she moved away and behind her desk putting distance between us. She held one hand to her chest, her breathing heavier than when I’d come in. Smugly, I’d hoped it was me that made her heart beat faster. “Mr. Jensen isn’t back from his appointment yet. Feel free to have a seat.”

Instead of sitting in the chairs along the walls, clearly the waiting area, I leaned a hip against her desk. Her cat eyes scanned my body. She wasn’t running away. That was a good sign. Maybe she liked what she saw.

“Tell me something, Cami?”

“Yes, Mr. Walker.” Her voice was breathy, much like it was earlier on the phone. It tweaked my senses pleasurably.

“Nate.”

“Excuse me?”

“Call me Nate. I want to hear my name come from those beautiful lips.”

A rosy hue crept up her neck and pinked her cheeks. “Um, okay, Nate,” she said, uncertainty lacing her words.

“Better.” I grinned and she sat. I took that as an opportunity to invade her space by sitting on the edge of her desk, close enough to touch her. The need to be next to her was ridiculous. It was as if an invisible tether was pulling me toward her. “Now, tell me something that nobody knows about you?”

“Huh?” Her perfectly sculpted russet colored eyebrows furrowed. “Like what?”

“That’s for you to decide. I find it’s easier to get to know someone if you start with something that nobody knows.” She looked down and bit her lip again, either in thought or to avoid eye contact. Either way I needed to have her eyes on me. If I couldn’t have her whole body wrapped around me, I’d settle for the eyes.

“Eyes on me, Cami.” With one finger, I tilted her chin up to face mine. She visibly trembled at my touch. Made me feel powerful. Driven to see it again, and often. “When you speak to me, I’d like to see your beautiful eyes. They’re bewitching.”

“You’re making me nervous,” her chin quivered so I clasped her face in both hands and pet that perfect bottom lip with my thumb. She inhaled and I slid just the tip of my thumb into her lush mouth. It killed me not to lean over and kiss her but I didn’t want to scare her away. She seemed skittish and I was enjoying myself more in her presence than all the women I’d bedded recently.

Her little tongue came out and just barely touched the skin of my thumb. Bolts of fire skated through my body with that simple touch. At this moment I wanted nothing but take her lovely body right here right now against her desk.

I removed my hands and took a deep breath. “That is about me, Precious. Not about you.” I smiled and she seemed to relax.

Even though this was my game, one of the ways I usually sucked a woman into my charm, I was wholly unprepared for her reply.

“I used to be a gymnast.”

I groaned and sat my arse fully onto her desk, my hand shooting through my hair. “Are you trying to kill me?” Visions of her long, curvy body bending this way and that…naked…sweating. It was too much. Instantly I was hard as steel.

Her shocked expression told me she was in fact not being coy or forward as I’d thought. She really was as sweet as I’d pegged her over the phone. “No, why would you say that?”

“Because I’m trying really hard to keep my hands to myself and when you tell me something like that … it’s almost impossible.”

Acknowledgements

To my husband
Eric
- You and our boys will forever be my everything. Even if I spend too much time writing and reading and pretending I’m in another world. My real world is pretty damn great and in my life, I will always love you more.

To my mentor
Jess Dee
– I’m going to continue to thank you because you continue to help me. Everyone, please read her books. They’re amazing and so worthy of a read.
www.jessdee.com
.

To my critique partner
MJ Handy
– Man do I owe you a lot of critique on your future work. Please send me more chapters so I can repay the fat debt for your amazing assistance. Especially as it pertains to digging into a man’s psyche. Solid gold that advice! Big hugs to you and the misses.

To my soul sisters
Nikki, Dyani, katz and Carrie
– Without the three of you I don’t think I’d survive even one bad review, or that one “Did Not Finish” or that one “I didn’t like the hero’s accent.” I may have convinced myself those naysayers were right. You three keep me sane. Your books are coming soon and I promise to do each of you proud. BESOS!

To my editor
Alfie Thompson
– You prevent me from sounding like an idiot. That puts you high up there with the people I place on pedestals. Let’s do this writer/editor thing again sometime.

To my beta readers:

Jeananna Goodall
– Your emotional connection to my characters blows me away. Thank you for keeping me focused on the emotional side of my writing and for loving my characters as much as I do. You read each chapter in the raw without an edit or a read through and still you cheered me on. Incredible.

Ginelle Blanch
– Your eagle editors eye saves my arse (as Collier would say) a hundred times over! Without your beta help, friendship and support I don’t know that this novel would have made its appearance so quickly. I owe you girl.

Niki Davis
– You emailed me asking to be a beta. That’s the first time that’s ever happened to me. Then to find out we live in the same tiny town in California? If that’s not fate I don’t know what is. Your comments were lovely but your editing eye a dream!

To
Begmeforbeta , Ms. Tara Sharland
- Thank you for double checking all of Collier, Emma, and Nate’s phrasing and British terms. Without you they’d all sound like Californian Yanks using words like, “Dude” and “Sweet.” You’re a life savior! I plan to be begging again really soon… Justice Falling is next and it’s another English hottie! Folks, you too can contact Tara for services and fees here:
[email protected]

To
Danielle Vanzandt
- Our friendship is new but your support is not. Thank you for promoting my novels to anyone and everyone. You are a diamond in a world filled with rocks.

To
Tibbs Design
- You did this cover in one shot. I’m in awe of how you are able to put my vision into art. Looking forward to working with you on Justice Falling.
www.tibbsdesign.com

To
Reed Files
- I love your photographs and am tickled by the fact that model Angelina is on the cover of both Angel Falling and London Falling. Let’s see if third time is a charm!
www.thereedfiles.com

Bad Ass Blogs & Authors

The following is a list of amazing author friends and blogs that have supported my work and propelled me into writing this novel. The constant friendship and love from this community knows no bounds. I’m grateful to each of these incredibly talented authors and the blogs that support an indie like me. Without all of you, I wouldn’t have believed Angel Falling was a success. If you’re an author or a reader, go check them out. You can thank me later.

Authors I Adore:

Emily Hemmer - www.emilyhemmer.com

Jess Dee - www.jessdee.com

Joya Ryan - www.joyaryan.com

Lexxie Couper - www.lexxiecouper.com

Liz Crowe - www.lizcrowe.com

Bad Ass Blogs: