Brazen (8 page)

Piper swayed in his arms to the music playing in the background. She always had music playing, no matter where they were. Tonight it was bluesy jazz. She probably wouldn’t mind the music coming from upstairs if it wasn’t old-school country; she’d never been a fan of twang. She brushed her body seductively against his erection with every move she made. “Are you going to tell me now what the fantasy is?”

“Let’s keep it a surprise.”

“You’re mean, Ben,” she said with a frown. There was that cute little pout again. “You’re a mean, mean man.”

He growled in jest and nipped her neck. “Yep, that’s me. Pure evil.”

Her laughter was the only music he needed. She slid one hand down to rub the ridge beneath his zipper. “Are we in a hurry?”

Damn but it was tempting. He glanced up at the daisy clock on the wall. They didn’t have much time. But the way her small hand was strumming his zipper made up his mind for him. How could he resist that invitation?

What the hell, the Playhouse was right down the street. Maybe it would be a good idea to take the edge off their arousal. Otherwise, it might be a real short visit to the playroom. He glanced at his watch and pretended to contemplate the question. “I guess we’ve got a little time.”

She smiled and gracefully sank to her knees. Her busy hands had his zipper down and his cock released in a matter of seconds. A shiver ran through his body when she took him in her hands and began to stroke. “Are you sure you can’t tell me what room we’re going to?” She didn’t look up at him, appeared instead to be concentrating on his throbbing dick.

Ben’s laugh sounded more like a groan. Oh hell, it
was
a groan. He thought a little sex would be enough to get her mind off her questions for a few minutes, but he should have known better. “It’s a surprise.”

Piper ran her tongue lightly along the length of his cock, not much more than a tease. “I don’t think I like surprises.”

He grasped her hair and tipped her head up so he could look in her big blue eyes. “You love surprises. Now open your mouth.”

Her grin widened and she parted her lips for him. It was heaven to sink into her hot, wet mouth. Her tongue was like velvet rubbing against his throbbing shaft. He kept his hands on her head, as if he could ever keep her where he wanted her to be.

She twisted her head for a moment, doing a little corkscrew sucking that nearly drove him over the edge. Then she stopped. Stopped dead. His cock was still buried in her mouth, but she didn’t move, didn’t suck or lick. She raised her wide eyes to meet his and he could see the mischievous glint in their depths.

He could have rocked his hips and fucked her mouth, but that wasn’t the way he wanted the night to go. He was already forcing her to go to the Playhouse, to a room she might not be too happy about. He released his grip on her hair and she sat back on her heels just far enough that he slipped from her mouth. “Tease,” he groaned. He couldn’t help but laugh at the look of feigned innocence on her face.

She leaned forward and licked the very tip of his cock. He jumped at the touch of her soft, wet tongue. Then she slowly straightened. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me?” Her voice was light yet seductive. One more lick and another seductive smile.

Yeah, she was teasing him.

He couldn’t let her get away with that, could he? He grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. She laughed and pretended to drag her feet as he pulled her over to the old plaid sofa. She’d told him she bought it at a second-hand store because it was so long and deep it must have been built with sex in mind.

“I don’t like to be teased. You should know better than that.”

Things aren’t always what they seem…and that can be a really good thing.

Blue Moon

© 2011 Mackenzie McKade

Two years ago Samantha Dawson had everything she wanted—a close family, a promising career, and a man she loved. Until the night before her oldest sister’s wedding, a night of celebration and too much alcohol that tore her world apart. Devastated, she fled Oregon for Phoenix.

Now she’s home for her little sister’s wedding, and just her luck, the best man is her ex-boyfriend. Worse, no one involved in that fateful night seems to want to let the past die an ugly death.

Kyle Ackland has no memory of the events that destroyed his life, but he’ll never forget the woman who set his body on fire. Sam’s emotional barriers are as solid as the Cascade Mountains, but he’s determined to chip them away one sensual kiss at a time.

Yet even if he succeeds, what’s left of their love could crumble under the weight of past sins…and present secrets.

Warning: Contains betrayal, lies, and reacquainted love that sizzles the words right off the page.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Blue Moon:

Wakefulness came with a price.

Sam’s temples throbbed. Her head felt as if it would explode at any moment. Smacking her lips, she badly needed a drink of something. Her mouth was so dry she doubted a gallon of water could satisfy her.

What the hell happened last night?

She squinted. Before the ray of sunlight spearing through the slit in her bedroom curtains could blind her, she pinched her eyelids closed. In the quiet darkness that followed it felt as if the room was spinning. But it couldn’t be. She lay flat on her stomach. Her face buried in a pillow. What she couldn’t quite make out was what was she lying on. While she mentally shook off the lingering effects of slumber, she squirmed against the hard and unyielding object, seeking comfort.

“Baby, if you keep moving like that I swear I’ll roll you over and have my way with you again.” The deep, sultry voice made the air in her lungs freeze.

No. No. No
. Please let her be asleep, caught in some horrible dream like all the others that plagued her night after night.

Better judgment told her to remain silent, but she wasn’t one to follow her own advice. “Kyle?” she croaked.

A warm palm slid across her back and grasped an ass cheek, squeezing, and
something
stirred beneath her.

The action sent her hormones screaming. This was not a dream. It was real. Kyle was real. That
something
growing larger beneath her was real. Really. Really. Real. Gauging by the way his hips shifted and that
something
sinfully wedged itself between her thighs—her bare thighs to be exact—she was in trouble. In fact, she wore not a stitch of clothes and neither did he.

“Who’d you think it was?” His familiar chuckle sent a sense of dread slamming into the excitement her wayward body was hell-bent on experiencing.

With lightning speed, her pulse jumped and raced. Sam swallowed, but the cottony taste lingered, refusing to get past the golf ball-size knot in her throat. Afraid to open her eyes, she fought desperately to dismiss the obvious.

She did
not
sleep with Kyle last night. Her body was
not
warring with her mind to widen her legs. And the throb in her nipples was
not
a sign that she wanted him.

Scattered snippets of the night floated aimlessly in her head, but try as she might portions of the night remained missing, like how she got to her room. Then her dance, her conversation with Troy popped into her head.

Sam groaned aloud.

“You okay, Sam?” His large hand smoothed up her back, brushing away her hair as his fingertips danced across her skin. “Can I get you anything? A drink?”

Nooo… No more to drink.

A gun might be a better choice, because she couldn’t bear to open her eyes and face the mess she’d created. A shiver slithered across her skin. Was this how Kyle had felt that night? Had he really been too intoxicated to recognize the difference between her and Cathy? Her stomach rolled.

“Baby?”

“Please don’t call me that.” Inhaling a shaky breath, she opened her eyes, turned and stared directly into his crystal blue ones. His tousled hair, the sly, seductive smirk on his face, made her pause, but not for long. “This was a mistake.” She should have spoken to Cathy last night. Should have discovered the truth, before she let anything like this happen.

His hand tensed against her skin. His grin died a quick death. “The hell it was.” Several worry lines furrowed his forehead. “I wanted you. You wanted me.”

“I was drunk.” It was a poor excuse and she knew it the minute the stupid words left her mouth.

Kyle’s brows shot up so quickly they almost touched his hairline. “So drunk you don’t remember what happened? What? You have five, six, maybe seven glasses of champagne?”

Sam stopped counting after five.

He flashed her one of those how’s-it-feel-to-be-in-my-shoes looks. “You know, Sam, I had a hell of a lot more to drink that night.”

Both of them knew exactly what night he spoke of. And yes, she wanted to believe him, but first she had to speak with her sister.

Careful not to touch him any more than she had to, she climbed off his decadent body and the bed, dragging a pillow along with her. Using it like a shield before her, she inched her chin higher.

“You should leave, Kyle.”

“No. Please.” Muscles bunched, rippled beneath his sun-kissed skin as he moved across the bed and stood before her. “Sam, don’t push me away. Forget the past. Look at what we could have together.”

We would be married. Maybe even have a child.

His words rang in her ears. Of all the things for her to remember from their night together. The sob building in her throat nearly undid her. It didn’t help that the room smelled musky of sex, their coupling. Squeezing her lips together, an attempt to keep her emotions at bay, she shook her head.

“I can’t. Every time I close my eyes I see you with her,” she admitted. “I don’t want to live with that memory in my head each time I look at you.”

“Please, baby. Don’t do this to us.”

“You hurt me.” She couldn’t mask the trembling in her voice. Then the truth tumbled out. “I don’t know if I could ever trust you again.”

“But—”

Sam held up a hand, silencing him. “Don’t.” Couldn’t he see her heart was breaking? The weight inside her chest was suffocating. What happened last night only made things worse. This had been her fault. She had no one to blame but herself. “I can’t go through this again.”

Kyle reached for her. Before she could dodge his grasp, he jerked her to him. She slammed into his chest, knocking the pillow out of her hands. It dropped between them. Skin to skin, Sam stood on rubbery legs. He lowered his head. His lips were a breath away from hers and she almost melted. Almost.

“Please don’t kiss me.” It was a plea. Blinking back tears, she knew she wasn’t strong enough to resist him.

“Is that all it would take for you to be mine again?” The ruthlessness in his tone sent another shiver down her spine. He held her a little tighter, a little closer.

“Yes.” Even as she made the confession, something inside her died. Pride. What little she had left oozed out of her. There was no need to deny it. She still loved and hated him.

“I want you, Sam.” His abrupt release left her staggering. “But not at the price of your dignity.” Jaws clenching, he made a see-saw motion, before he spoke again. “When you come back to me it will be because you want to. I can’t apologize any longer for something I can’t remember. And I won’t live here anymore pretending like my life is okay.”

Backbone rigid, he stepped away from her and began to gather his clothes. The bed moaned beneath his weight as he sat, pushing one leg and then another into his pants before he fastened them. Not bothering with donning a shirt, he marched to the door and jerked it open. He took one more long look at her before slamming the door behind him.

Sam startled. Her pulse raced even faster.

The change in his demeanor left her speechless and cold, a chill that went bone deep.