Harlequin Mills & Boon Sexy ~ May 2011 (Australia/NZ)
Harlequin Presents Extra ~ July 2011 (USA)
Oh… the things the man could do… He was the most creative lover she’d ever had. She’d enjoyed a few but this one was the flame on her Flaming Sambuca. Slithering lower, Sophie Buchanan licked the lingering flavour of blackberries and cream from her lips. As sweet as it was, she was done with dessert.
The silk sheets slid cool and smooth against her skin, the perfect foil for his hard, hot weight as she arched her body beneath him. Wanting more. Wanting everything. And she told him what that was. Every glorious detail.
Then she sighed as he set about fulfilling those requests, starting at her earlobe and working his way down.
His mouth was warm, wet and wicked, suckling at her neck, laving her collar-bone and sending goose-bumps from the roots of her hair right down to the tips of her toes and every throbbing place in between. His thumbs, lightly calloused, chafed her sensitised flesh as he tweaked her nipples until…oh…bliss…she was in heaven.
“There’s more,” his gravel and whisky voice promised.
She hummed her approval, absorbing the scent and texture of his skin against hers while his hands continued their erotic journey.
Wanting to absorb the feel of his flesh through her fingertips, she slid her fingers slowly down his spine, touching every vertebra in turn, pressing her thumbs into the hard muscle on either side. She was rewarded with a harsh groan that tickled her ear and told her he was enjoying it as much as she.
Then he touched her some more. Everywhere. Everywhere at once. His fingers sought, found and satisfied all her secret places. Ripples of pleasure flowed through her veins like liquid gold — his expertise knew no bounds and it seemed his only desire was to bring her pleasure.
And he did, in every way. Jared… The name rippled through her mind like silken ribbons in a tropical breeze.
He smiled, traced her mouth with a finger then with his tongue, and she smiled too, before indulging in the most sumptuous of kisses. He tasted rich and dark, like the blackberries and cream they’d shared, and ever-so-slightly dangerous, which was okay, since she knew she was perfectly safe with him.
He kneed her thighs apart then slid inside her with agonisingly exquisite slowness. It was as if the world forgot to turn. As if it was coming to a stop. And perhaps it was. Perhaps it had ceased to exist, because it seemed it was only the two of them in a sparkling cocoon of everlasting velvet night.
She heard a moan, as if her voice came from somewhere else and her eyes slid open, the darkness alive and glowing with wonder, the tidal wave of her climax still crashing around her. She lay a moment listening to the sound of her elevated breathing while her body slowly floated back to earth.
She touched her still tingling lips, realised she was still smiling. And why wouldn’t she be? Oh…my…goodness.
As her eyes adjusted to night’s soft glow through her living room window, she saw the Gold Coast’s languid summer’s evening had sprinkled the indigo sky with silver dust.
A dream. And the best sex she’d never had.
Yet even though his image remained tantalisingly vague, she could still taste him on her tongue. Which was as fanciful as it was true, she knew, but that didn’t make it any less sumptuous. As dream lovers went he was a five star keeper. Which, all things considered, was a shame because why weren’t there any men out there in the real world to compare?
She shook her head against the cushion. It didn’t matter if there were a zillion comparable men beating a path to her door, she wasn’t interested. She didn’t need – or want – a real man in her life ever again. Not after Glen. He’d destroyed what they had and left her feeling less than a woman. Her dream lovers suited her just fine. Dream lovers were all about you and your wants and they didn’t let you down.
Best of all, they were safe.
Her laptop lay on the coffee table, its tiny power light winking in the dimness. Rousing herself, she switched on the reading lamp. Every luscious detail, before the glory fades.
Even though she no longer attended counselling sessions, the dream journal she still kept was on her night-stand, so she dragged the computer onto her lap, created a dream folder, flexed her fingers…
His name was Jared, and this dream hottie could scorch her sheets any time he wanted… The words flowed onto the screen, tantalising her all over again. She reread the document, flushing hot as she did so. Whew, it was like reading one of those steamy romance novels. What would her counsellor have made of it?
Then her fingers stalled above the keyboard. Jared? Her heart thumped once and a jolt of heat arrowed through her body. She didn’t know anyone by that name… Unless she counted Jared Sanderson – and it couldn’t be him. How could you have the hots for a guy you’d never met, let alone seen up close? Pam’s boss. And since her friend was off work sick and Sophie was temping for her, that made him her boss for the next day or so.
A shivery sensation shot through her body, making the tiny hairs on the back of her neck and down her arms stand up. A glimpse of dark cropped hair and a snowy white shirt stretched tight over impossibly broad shoulders when she’d arrived at the office of J Sanderson Property Investments and Refurbishments this morning…
She shook the image away. Big boss Jared had been too busy or simply too rude to bother introducing himself to his lowly temporary PA before heading out for the rest of the day.
It wasn’t him, she told herself firmly. The name had stuck in her mind, that was all. Not to mention that stunning physique… And tall and dark had always been her thing…
No. If he had hit her sweet spot on some subconscious level and it had manifested in her dreams, it didn’t matter since he’d never know.
So it wasn’t a problem. Not a problem at all. Nor was she going to allow this particular dream lover to erode the competent professional image she’d worked so hard for. She’d come to Surfers to bury past hurts, to begin a new life.
Professional. It reminded her that she’d not yet emailed the file Pam had asked her to edit before forwarding to the office. Switching to email, she entered the address Pam had supplied and began a brief accompanying note. Dear Jared…
She paused. Typing those words redefined the image and rekindled the smouldering heat in her lower body to life again. She fanned a hand in front of her face, a smile tugging at her mouth despite herself. Where the heck was that professionalism?
She deleted the words, then shook her fingers in front of her for a few seconds, pursed her lips and began again. Mr Sanderson… Much better. Please find the Lygon and Partners report attached for your approval. Regards, Sophie Buchanan for Pam Albright.
She attached Pam’s revised document, pressed Send then closed her computer and the lamp and headed to her bedroom through the shadows. She settled back against the pillows with a sigh. Maybe she’d get lucky some more.
She’d barely closed her eyes when something sharp and hot and possibly terminal lodged dead centre in her chest, and they snapped wide open again. She couldn’t have… She Could Not.
Jack-knifing up, she stumbled back to the living room and her laptop and stabbed the On button. Her fingers twitched with impatience while the little computer took its sweet time powering up. For heaven’s sakes, could it load any slower?
When her email screen appeared she scrolled to her Sent Items folder and…her breath stopped. Her heart stopped. Everything stopped. Oh. My. God.
Her dream file was this very minute awaiting Jared Sanderson’s approval.
Her heart restarted and hysterical laughter bubbled up her throat as she quickly attached the correct document and resent. Did the man have a sense of humour? According to Pam, no he didn’t, and her mouth twisted as she blew out a breath.
Even if he did see the humour in the situation, what she’d written was so shockingly…well, shocking. The worst, the very worst of it was, his name was in there. Only his first name, but that was more than enough… She was never ever going to put her sexy dreams in writing again.
The swipe card they’d given her didn’t operate the building’s front door so there was no point going to the office now to try and delete it. Which meant she’d have to wait till someone opened up in the morning to get into the office. Seven o’clock at the earliest.
With a groan, she let her head fall back and gazed at the ceiling. But she didn’t see it. All she saw was the look on the man’s face when he opened her email.
She was so dead.