Passions Recalled: Forbidden Passions, Book 2 (10 page)

She shrugged. “You made me sweat for a week.”

“And she made us suffer for it.”

The family was still gathered in the doorway, Tomas leaning on the frame and grinning at her. She made a shooing motion with her hands.

“Go. Away.”

Reluctantly, everyone backed away but Michael.

“You’ll take care of her,” he said, more demand than question.

“Of course I will.”

Michael nodded curtly. “See that you do.” Then he disappeared into the house with the others, pulling the door shut behind him.

Jason tugged her back to the hammock and lay down, pulling her with him. She shoved a foot against the ground to get them swinging and stared out into the yard. This was one of her favorite pastimes for lazy summer days, though usually she had a book.

“Nice skirt.”

He reached down to her ankle and slowly slid his hand up her leg under the skirt. Her breath quickened then stopped altogether when he reached her pussy.

“No underwear?” he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her, arousing her. He pushed his cock against her ass. She avoided the question as his fingers began to stroke her.

“I need a hammock in Florida.”

He nuzzled her neck and murmured. “I’ll get you a dozen.”

He rubbed her clit and pushed one finger slowly inside her. She clutched around it, moving her hips back, grinding against the hard body behind her.

“Good.”

He chuckled. “Which part? This part?” He moved a second finger inside her, set up a steady in and out rhythm, and gave her clit the lightest pinch. She trembled and bit her lip, afraid she’d cry out. Right on the edge of coming.

“My whole family is inside, Jason.”

“Hmm. I don’t care.” He nibbled on her neck. “I always was the bad boy in my family, you know.”

She grew slicker, hotter when she felt his teeth scrape over her pulse. She was so close, but she didn’t want to come like this. She needed him inside her, filling her. Unable to turn around, she reached one hand behind her and rubbed it over the hard bulge in his jeans. He groaned.

“Playing with fire again,” he said.

She grinned, fought down a giggle. Suddenly, sex in broad daylight on her parents’ back porch sounded pretty damned good. She wondered if they dared get naked? As if he could read her mind, he moved her hand and unsnapped his jeans. The zipper sounded impossibly loud in the quiet afternoon, and he lowered it so slowly she’d thought she’d go mad. Then she felt him free, pressed up against her ass. He bit down on her neck, a little hard, an attention getter.

“Last time to say no.”

“Not on your life. Now, Jason.”

He pulled the skirt up to her waist, lifted her thigh over his and thrust into her in one smooth movement. Then he rearranged the length of the skirt so it covered their actions and started moving in short shallow strokes that left her unfulfilled and drove her mad. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand lightly plumping her tight nipples while the other pressed flat against her abdomen holding her still and in place for his thrusts. He kept his face buried in her neck, kissing, biting or sucking the tender skin there. All his movements were slow and measured, designed to keep her on the edge and wanting. She knew exactly what he was doing, felt his resolve, and she smiled. It was a claiming, body and soul. But as much as he owned hers, she knew she also owned his, and she relaxed against him, releasing that last bit of her resistance.

He sighed when she went pliant and deepened his thrusts, quickened his pace. The bites came harder, the fingers closed on her nipples tighter. She panted, wrapped her fingers through the mesh of the hammock and held on. They swayed, rocking in an increasingly fast rhythm until she had to clamp down on her bottom lip or scream out and alert those inside the house. They came together, and he bit down hard on the sensitive skin between her shoulder and neck. She knew she’d bear two marks from him now. She grinned. Doubly claimed.

After he withdrew from her and put their clothes to rights, they fell silent, just enjoying the aftermath and being in each other’s arms, when she thought about the destroyed house and the odd visit from the Messenger.

“What was Derek up to? Trying to cause a further rift between the leopards and wolves or what?”

Jason’s arms tightened around her body. “I don’t know. Nico’s looking into it.”

She couldn’t repress a shudder. Nico was scary under the best of circumstances. She decided to change the subject.

“Where
are
we living by the way? Not the back of your truck,” she said with alarm. She was just a little too girly for that.

He laughed and teased her. “But, honey, I thought you said, implied at least, you’d live with me anywhere?”

She craned her neck back to look at him over her shoulder. “Don’t joke, Jason.”

He grinned. “A borrowed RV. A very small borrowed RV, but it’s in that little tourist park right outside the gate so it’s close to work. And it has electricity and running water.”

She smiled. “Ah well, it’s perfect then, isn’t it?”

“Long as you’re in it with me.”

“Oh you had your chance to get rid of me. Now you’re stuck.”

She laid her head back against his chest and kicked the floor again.

“I am waiting to hear one thing from you, you know.”

She smiled and closed her eyes, breathing his scent deep into her lungs. She knew exactly what he wanted.

“I love you, too, Jason.”

About the Author

Loribelle is like the South she calls home. Hot and sultry. Languid and sexy. Magnolias and gardenias scent her silk-lined boudoir, and men and children alike bow to her magnificence…

Okay, maybe it isn’t quite that glamorous. She does have two smart and lovely daughters who give her a run for her money and a son that will one day be someone’s model of a romance hero. (She promises.) Her husband is a real life hero, and Loribelle just tries to keep up with the demands of military life. In between, she writes a book or two.

She’s had every job under the sun, but haven’t most writers? That Army military police, bookstore manager, waitress, wedding photographer, website designer experience has to come in useful sometimes. As they say in the South, it all washes out in the end.

She can be found at
www.loribellehunt.com
.

Can Shane convince Jessie he’s the only man for her before her stalker attempts to end both their lives?

Fireworks

© 2007 Loribelle Hunt

Jessalyn Banks is a respected gallery owner in a small coastal Florida town. She isn’t looking to make any major changes in her life, but events collide in a way that takes that option away from her. A stalker enters her life, and she has no choice but to notify the town’s police chief, Shane Moore.

Shane has been trying to maneuver his way into Jessie’s life for a year. Getting added to her Fourth of July planning committee is a brilliant move. Convincing her they belong together is much harder to accomplish. When her mysterious stalker escalates his activities and another woman is badly injured, events spin out of his control. Does Shane have the time to convince Jessie he’s the only man for her before the stalker makes his move?

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Fireworks:

“Let me up,” she said, her voice low and subdued.

He did, reluctant to give up the feeling of her pressed close to his chest or to leave her with the illusion, however brief, that he was letting her go. She moved across the room and lifted her chin.

“I’m sorry.” She waved a hand through the air. “I don’t ever do that. I don’t know what came over me.”

He shrugged, hoping to ease her back into relaxing with him. “You’ve had a hard day.”

“Not nearly as bad as Nancy.”

A lone tear tracked down her cheek. He was across the room in a second, and pulling her close, he rocked a little back and forth. Ah, baby, can’t you just let me in a little? He wasn’t sure when the comforting embrace turned sexual, but suddenly her hands were up his shirt, her mouth moving up his neck, and he had a raging hard-on. As much as he wanted her, he wasn’t going to let her turn this into another excuse to push him out of her life. He stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. Deep breaths, Shane.

She edged closer, holding one hand out to him and licking her lips. Those full pouty lips drove him wild.

“Shane. I need…”

She trailed off, meeting his gaze. He wasn’t sure what he saw there, but he didn’t have it in him to deny her. For now he’d delude himself into thinking she realized how much she needed him and not just any warm body. He growled, taking her hand and yanking her to him. His mouth covered hers, starving, taking, drunk on her taste and feel. Tongue pushing past her lips, he groaned. She was sweet and silky and most important, his. It made him weak-kneed. In any other circumstances, he might have laughed. Big bad Shane Moore brought down by the straight-laced Jessalyn Banks. Who was definitely not being prim, her hands tugging his shirt up his body. More than willing to accommodate, he stopped the kiss and ripped it over his head, which may have been a mistake. Her tongue flicked his nipple and then her teeth closed over it. The contact threatened to blow his little head off.

Heart hammering, he drew back. Not like this. He wanted to enjoy her, wanted to take his time and drive her wild with desire. And if he drove away a few of her demons at the same time, well, more power to him. But first things first.

“I need a bed this time, Jessie.”

Taking a deep breath that shoved her breasts up and made his dick bob in appreciation, she nodded and walked into the hall.

“Upstairs. Last door on the left,” she murmured.

He caught her at the bottom of the stairs, tossed her over his shoulder in a classic fireman’s carry and took the steps two at a time. After setting her down across the threshold and toeing the door shut behind them, he took a good look around. He’d expected frilly and was glad to be proved wrong. Her furniture was old, a deep walnut color with rolled tops and rounded carved corners. An intricate rug covered the pine floors and an unmade modern four-poster took up center stage. He walked to the bed and sat to take off his boots, glad he’d thought to leave his gun belt in the car before he entered the hospital. When the boots were pushed to the side, he sat back and looked her over.

She stood in front of the dresser, her expression wary and hungry at the same time, playing with a button on her fancy blouse. He felt a slow smile spring from his heart.

“Take off your clothes, Jessie. Nice and slow. I want to see you.”

Enemy mine…

Stolen Passions

© 2010 Crystal Jordan

Forbidden Passions, Book 1

Lyra Marcus tries to avoid her werewolf family’s political entanglements. Instead, she heals the wounds of the never-ending border skirmishes between lycans and wereleopards. It’s a bitter irony that she’s about to die in that war.

When she awakens after an attack, the horror of her situation dawns. She’s a wounded werewolf in the middle of wereleopard territory. And standing over her is a son of its most powerful family, Zander Leonidas. Her fate may be a swift and bloody end, but she intends to go down fighting.

Zander has no plan to fight the little she-wolf who’s landed at his Refuge Resort, a place where shifter species are free to be what they are—except wolves, of course. Yet Lyra fits him in a way she shouldn’t, and the urge to mark her as his mate is irresistible. A match like theirs, though, would rock the foundations of their world.

He intends to find out who left Lyra for dead on Leonidas land. And keep her safe from whoever wants to finish the job—not to mention the werewolf alpha who wants his niece back at any cost…

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Stolen Passions:

The next morning, Zander strode out of the building that housed the corporate offices for Leonidas Industries. It had taken him the better part of two hours and a whole lot of fast talking to get Adrian and Nico to agree to keep Lyra here until they figured out what was going on. All of them were going to start digging discreetly to see what new shifts in wolf politics were in the works. That Lyra had ended up on leopard land wasn’t a coincidence. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to get her here, wanted to start something, to make a statement, and they needed to know who and why.

Not knowing made frustration crawl through him. Whatever had happened spelled trouble for his family, and they’d had more than their share lately. He wanted it done. But there was nothing more he could do at this point. It was a waiting game. In the meantime, he had work to do for the resort. His assistant manager had handled everything while Zander played nursemaid, but the younger man couldn’t do everything himself. Zander had a lot of catching up to do.

His gaze swept the resort grounds as he walked toward the main hotel that housed his office. Palm trees littered the premises, shading a sparkling blue pool and the creamy stucco and wood Spanish-style buildings. Mountains rose in the distance to one side of the resort while the desert opened in the other. His place. Under his leadership, it was more successful than it ever had been. At his insistence, Refuge was a neutral-territory resort exclusively for shifters, where they were free to be whom and what they were. Since wolves vacationed here as well, Nico was anal about maintaining tight security.

An hour later, Zander’s intercom buzzed and his secretary’s voice came through. “Sir, I found a guest who’s the same size as your…new friend.” There was a slight pause while the line crackled. “And you have a one o’clock appointment in Tucson today. You’re going to need to leave soon.”

“Right.” Zander pulled in a deep breath, the scent of sand and a hundred different shifters reaching his nostrils. Including Lyra’s. His pants grew uncomfortably tight as his cock stirred. He’d taken her to his house on the edge of the resort’s main compound last night. He’d reached for her again and again before dawn broke, burying his cock in her tight, silky sheath. Shaking his head, he snorted. The most intense orgasms of his life and he should be half-dead, not horny again.