Yesterday I did my first facebook party.  It was exhausting.  Entertaining.  And a blast.

I might try one again, but I think I’ll do it over a longer period of time, with authors coming every hour instead of everything thirty minutes.  Oy.

If you’ve read me for a while, you’ve probably noticed I have this odd addiction to friends to lovers romance.  *Cough* Wrecked *Cough Cough* Her Best Friend’s Lover*  Cough Cough* One of the Guys *  Cough, cough * Her Wildest Dreams * Cough, cough* For the Love of Jazz * Cough, cough, cough* Beg Me *

And now…You Own Me.

But really, I’ve got a reason for it.  It’s practically in my blood by now.  I talk all about it on USA Today’s HEA blog.

 

If you’re in Louisville, I’m speaking this Saturday, talking writing and stuff and yes, there is a signing after.

Louisville SINC

B&N on Hurstbourne

August 9

1pm

Here’s a snippet from YOU OWN ME…and a pretty graphic. Cuz I like playing with things.  Never let me near photoshop.

 

 

And you think I don’t want you.

Elizabeth felt those words echo all the way down to her soul, she’d swear it. Felt them ripple through her, all but touching her, the effect was so profound.

And he continued to stare at her, dark blue eyes locked on her face as though there was something more, something bigger, something deeper he was trying to tell her.

Shaken, she closed her eyes.

His fingers trailed down the line of her torso, then back up and she swallowed as he undid the catch on her bra.

“I dream about this,” he said and he let her hands go.

She whimpered when she realized why—both of his hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples and she felt each slow circuit pulsing through her core. She’d had less shattering effects when she’d stroked herself to climax.

“These tits…Lizzie, I love these sweet, beautiful tits. I dream about tasting them and my mouth is already watering.”

Her eyes flew open at the bald, blunt statement, heat suffusing her face as he started to lower his head. His lips brushed across one nipple. “But you think I don’t want you.”

“Decker.”

She whimpered out his name, unable to do anything else as he closed his mouth around one nipple, already swollen, already drawn tight. The way he used his mouth should be outlawed. He tugged, suckled, stroked, and when she was so sensitive she didn’t think she could stand it, he caught the peak between his teeth and lightly bit down.

If he hadn’t reached up at the last moment to cover her mouth, her garbled shout would have been heard clear through the door.

“Shhh,” he whispered against her flesh. “Have to be quiet, sweet Lizzie…”

Quiet? She barely understood the meaning of the word—any words just then.

Her mouth fell open under his fingers and he slid one along the curve of her lip, then inside. Instinctively, she sucked on it and he groaned against her breast before he straightened. With his free hand, he caught her hip, dragged her closer to the edge of the desk.

“I’ve dreamed about that, too,” he said, gaze locked on her mouth now as she drew his finger in. He tugged it out and then let her suck it back inside, repeating the process over and over. “I dream about your mouth, tasting it…and then seeing you put that pretty mouth on me. Everywhere. Any way. The thought’s enough to turn my balls blue…but you think I don’t want you.”

He tugged his finger free and a gasp hissed out of her as he traced his damp finger around the nipple he’d neglected, over and over until it peaked and pulsed in time with the other.

She closed her eyes when he slid his hand lower, his fingers ghosting along the edge of her panties. “And here.” He pressed his mouth to her neck. “I can tell you more, Lizzie. Do you want me to?”

Yes.

No.

I don’t know.

All three answers leaped to her lips and when he lifted his head, dark blue eyes searching her face, she jerked her head away.

“No.” He cupped her chin, guiding her face back to his. “You think I don’t want you…I want you to see just how much I do. You have to see.”

He brought her hand to his chest and once more, she could feel his heart slamming away against her hand. “That’s for you,” he said, his hold loose, easy. It stayed that way even as he went to guide her hand lower.

She could pull away at any time.

She could.

Except…she couldn’t.

Even when shocked hunger stabbed into her as he folded her hand around his cock, she couldn’t pull away, couldn’t think about it. “That’s for you,” he said, his voice lower, harsher. “I’m so hard I hurt with it, but you think I don’t want you.”

Elizabeth swallowed, shaken in ways she couldn’t describe, her hand convulsively tightening around the heavy length of his cock while her core ached, while wetness gathered there and need twisted inside her like a coil.

“But…”

Cut adrift when he tugged her hand away, then backed away, she stared at him. Cold swept through her and she would have wrapped her arms around her body if she could have moved.

“I’m not making love to you when you’re heartbroken about that dickless wonder Noel,” Decker said, and his voice went tight, laced with too much emotion for her to decipher. His hands curled into fists at his side as he stared at her. “I’d do almost anything for you, but I can’t be your toy while you try to forget about him and how he just broke your heart.”

He turned away.

The black of his tattoos seemed almost stark against skin that was normally gold as he strode toward the door.

“Deck,” she said, the words coming out in a painful whisper.

Common sense warned, Don’t. It’s easier this way. You made yourself forget for a reason, remember?

Yeah.

She’d made herself forget.

And look where it had led her.

Shoving off the desk, she lurched after Decker just as he reached for the doorknob.

“He couldn’t have broken my heart,” she said at his back.

He tensed.

Don’t walk away, she thought, realized she was so close to begging. What would he say if he knew the truth—that truth she’d hidden for so long?

The only person who could ever break my heart is you…

But she couldn’t tell him that. Couldn’t ever tell Decker.

The door’s hinges groaned as he tugged the door open. Grabbing the edges of her sweater, she forced herself to admit the truth—that ugly truth that she’d admitted as Noel had stormed out of her shop, the ugly truth she’d admitted as she cried on Decker’s shoulder.

That ugly truth that some part of her had come to accept over the past few weeks…a truth she’d hidden from, until today.

“I never loved Noel, Decker.”

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