On vacation in the tropical paradise of St. Lucia...
Martin and Abby never intended to meet anyone while they were away. Circumstance, however, pushes them together in spite of their expectations. With an entire vacation week with nothing to do but spend time together, Martin and Abby forge a connection unlike anything either had felt before. With Abbyâs conservative nature and Martinâs refusal to be the player he had once been, the couple keeps themselves physically apart...until they canât.
They collide into a friction that sparks a blazing need to stay together. Keeping the heat alive from opposite ends of the country, though, may prove too difficult. Distance and circumstance become very ugly words in this coupleâs vocabulary.
âDo I get to see whatâs under your robe?â He grinned wickedly as he reached for the belt.
She giggled and turned away. âNot yet! I have to finish my wine first. You should have thought of that before you poured me a glass,â she said laughing wickedly at the look on his face.
Martin groaned and dropped his head back on the couch, but then he got an ornery look on his face. He sat up and guzzled the last of his wine. He took her glass from her and tipped back the remainder of hers, too, sounding a refreshed âahhâ through his smile.
âHey!â she said, laughing with him.
âOk. Wineâs not an issue,â he grinned at her. âShow me.â
Still laughing a bit, she stood up and walked across the room from him. He stayed in his spot on the couch and waited for her to drop the robe. Like the seductress that she was, she stood there for a long moment, her makeup subtle-sexy and her beautiful auburn hair in a messy, wavy up-sweep.
She did nothing but look at him with heated eyes. She too-slowly reached for the belt and then stopped. She toyed with the ends of the terry-cloth rope that held the fabric closed around her.
âYou know youâre killing me over here, right?â he asked, loving her playful side.
âWell, we canât have that,â she said, pulling the belt loose but leaving the robe firmly closed around her body. âAre you sure youâre ready for this?â
âI did mention the death part, right?â he said, laughing. âIâm more than ready, Abby. Show me.â
âCanât say I didnât warn youâ¦â and with that, she opened the robe and let it fall to the floor. Martin gaped at the sight in front of him. Never in his life, ever, had he seen anything so unbelievably sexy as what he saw in front of him in that moment. He must have inadvertently made a deal with the devil in order to have that in the room with him. She was absolutely, sinfully provocative.
His eyes raked down her body, pausing at every sexy, delicious curve. She wore a deep emerald corset with wickedly erotic black lace trim. The bodice hugged her ribs tightly and tucked her already tiny waist into a perfect hourglass center. The satin flared back out to accent her hips in a way that made him want to worship at her feet.
Then, as if that werenât enough, the bottom rim of ribbon and lace held black garters that traced sexy lines down to black thigh-highs. Those alluring sheer hose hugged her legs with a lace border that nearly danced around the soft, creamy skin of her thighs. His eyes traveled back up to rest on her full breasts straining against the satin laced up to a bow between them.
The exaggerated curves were even more accented by a wisp of hair that waved down her neck and nestled in her substantial cleavage. He noticed one last detail around her hips. A scant strip of lace served as panties. She obviously put those on over the garters. He could strip them off and leave her in the corset and thigh-highs if he wanted to.
Oh. Sweet. God. He wanted to.
âDamnâ¦â was the only word he could think to say as he walked the length of the room in about four long strides. His hands gripped around her ribs and he could feel the heat of their skin reacting through the satin and ribbings. He jerked her forward that way, her whole body following the constraints of the corset. She fell into him hard and let her hands rest at his chest.
He was no longer laughing with her playfully. Now he was so sexed-out he was ready to throw her down and take her hard. She looked at him with wide, expecting eyes, wanting the same thing. He hoped she was expecting the animal side of him, because thatâs exactly where she took him the minute she dropped her robe.
He grabbed her by the hair as he searched her mouth with his desperate tongue. His other hand gripped at her back, bottom and shoulder with the full strength of his desire. She was the only woman to evoke this kind of passion from deep within, and he couldnât turn it off. He jerked her hair back again to give himself access to her neck.
I love a good love story. I reread the first kiss a few times before I read on...even in my own books. That moment gets me every time no matter how often I revisit that beautiful connection. I dive into every story to the point where I have so many fictional boyfriends that I can't keep track of them all.
In the world of reality, I have a loving and tolerant husband who smiles and rolls his eyes every time I tell him about my latest fictional love affair. I have two autistic pre-teen boys who keep me on my toes. I have a psychotic Golden Retriever (I was told those don't exist...) and a cat that rules our house. I used to be the queen. Our regal feline has usurped my throne and demoted me to Prime Minister.
I studied English/Journalism at Miami University in Ohio, have a Master's Degree in Secondary Education from the University of Dayton and I spent five years teaching even more personality-rich pre-teens. For some sick reason, I actually enjoyed teaching junior high. Now as a stay-at-home mom, I'm clinging to that status by throwing my hat in the author's ring and hoping I get to keep it there.