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**SOME TEASERS CONTAIN ADULT CONTENT**
Sidda Lee Tate
A triumphant smile beamed from Kyle's lips. “So you’re staying.”
“You want to.”
Sharon nibbled on the inside of her lip. He didn’t know how right he was. His fingers gave hers a quick squeeze, and he dropped his hands, stepping back. She winced at the unsettling feeling in her stomach caused by his separation, and magnetically followed him across the room and through a set of double doors.
She pulled her gaze from him and examined the bathroom. The shower was huge, a walk-in with showerheads randomly scattered across the walls and a built-in stone bench along the back wall. Sharon had never seen anything like it and it must have showed because Kyle gave a low chuckle and said, “Use it if you want. You can choose which showerheads you want to spray. But it’s late…or early. You’re probably tired, so—”
“I’m not tired,” she interrupted, slipping the lace camisole over her head and dropping it on the floor. “Will you turn on the water?”
Kyle paused for a second, taking her in. “Which ones do you want on?”
She kicked off her flats and slipped the skirt over her legs. “All of them. And hot, I like it hot.”
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Chancie groaned in frustration at her inability to relax and stop worrying every detail of her life. Imagining herself as some Scarlett O’Hara figure and Micah Taylor as Rhett Butler was pointless, and probably self-defeating. No man could live up to a digital Hollywood hero. Instead of soothing, this little exercise had aroused her. Her skin felt sensitized, electric. Her nipples stood in hard peaks that hurt inside the confinement of her bra. The pit of her stomach ached, and lower still she pulsed with emptiness between her legs.
If she didn’t stop, she’d throw herself on Micah Taylor the moment she saw him again. Tear his clothes off in the parking lot of the Inn and beg for release from this torment right then and there.
She ripped the now limp and soggy cucumber rounds from her eyes and sat up. She needed a hot bath. Or a cold shower.
She padded to the bathroom again and turned on the tap. She couldn’t bring herself to actually step into the icy spray, so she compromised with a warm shower. She washed her hair, shaved her legs, and then stood in the spray until the water began to run cold.
She toweled dry, rubbed all over with scented lotion, and dusted herself with bath powder. Then she returned to her bedroom, opened the top drawer in the dresser, and stood debating.
Satin, lacy, cotton, plain.
What difference did it make what she wore?
Suzzana C. Ryan
Suzzana C. Ryan
Gina caught sight of the man sitting on the bed as she surveyed the room. He was a big guy and handsome. She didn’t want to look in his direction, damn he was hot. There was no mistaking Marco was ripped under the clothing he wore.
Gina gave the last of her orders to the five Inspectors under her command and slammed the door behind them.
“Don’t forget housekeeping, this place is a fucking pig sty,” she yelled after them. When she turned she hit a wall of muscle, Marco Natalia stood in her face.
Gina hadn’t expected him to be so tall. He towered over her, heels and all. Gina had seen plenty of photographs of him. He’d been in the newspapers countless times and not one photo did him any justice. She could tell by the way he moved and held her eyes he was well aware of the effect he had on the opposite sex. She hadn’t expected him to be so bold. He was standing too close for comfort.
“Mr. Natalia please get out of my face.”
“What, you don’t like my face?”
“Don’t be an idiot. I’m a U. S. Marshal. I can whip your ass. So please go sit down,” she said. He was close enough for her to smell, it was no doubt expensive aftershave, soap and was that pizza-sauce.
“Yes, ma’am, whatever you say. But you never answered me, what’s wrong with my face?”
“Nothing. Please sit down.” She had to smile. He was good. He was cute, damn sexy and she had to keep her distance. It had been a while since she’d had sex because her job left her little time for any kind of personal life. He really was unnerving her, she found him excessively physically attractive.
“Okay, I’ll sit. Are you going to do something about this place? This is a real shit hole. This is not my usual milieu, Inspector McCarthy. I’m actually a gentleman, but I can get down and dirty to fit the occasion.” He smiled broadly at her, displaying an amazing set of dimples.
Shit, she thought, he’s really good. “Mr. Natalia it costs the government a great deal of money to house you. Please accept my apologies…” Gina stopped. She saw the tip of a phone peeking out from the inside of his expensive suit jacket.
“What the fuck, you have a phone? Are you crazy? Give me that phone!” she yelled coming at him.
“I didn’t use the damn phone. The phone’s new. I figured the government wasn’t going to drop five or six hundred bucks for an IPhone so it’s the last thing I bought before I kissed my bank accounts good bye.”
Gina wanted to smack him silly. That need dissipated as she realized she was close, too close to him. Her anger ebbed replaced by a slight knotting in her belly. He was so close she could feel his was warm breath on her face and that’s when he grabbed her taking her by surprise.
Gina was trapped. She never figured he’d be stupid enough to try anything with her. She was wrong, so very wrong. What upset Gina even more was she didn’t want him to stop. Her strong protests ceased as she pushed at him weakly letting his soft lips take a slow easy sensual possession of hers.
Lance got out of the pool, grabbed a towel, and dried himself. Van finally got up enough nerve to ask him about what was weighing on her mind. She sat up in the lounge chair and took a deep breath. “Lance, can I ask you a question?”
“You can ask me anything.”
She decided it was best to be straightforward. “I was wondering how many women you’ve been with. I’m not jealous or anything, I was just wondering where all your naughty, sexual ideas came from.”
“Do you feel I push you too hard to try new things? Because please, tell me if anything I do makes you uncomfortable.”
“No, I don’t feel that way.”
He dropped his towel and stalked toward her like a lion about to pounce on his prey, sending lightning bolts of arousal through her.
“Don’t move,” he commanded as he straddled the lounger to sit behind her. Lance pulled her body against his and placed his hand just under her bikini top, causing her body to shudder. “Do you like the things I say and do to you, Savannah?” he whispered into her ear as he slowly pushed up the scrap of material holding her breasts hostage and palmed her tits.
Van closed her eyes and saw stars behind her lids as he pinched her nipples while exploring her neck with his mouth. “I love what you do to me,” she replied between labored breaths.
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