A taste of Texas is what everyone needs in cold February!
Try FALLING FAST!
Rodeo Manager Kade Stapleton wants to hire PR consultant Shana Carpenter to help him build up his rodeo—and fire up his nights. But can Shana do both with a clear conscience?
EXCERPT:“Miz Carpenter? Ma’am?” Kade Stapleton raised his voice, but he definitely sounded strained, as if he were strangling.
“Hmm?” She lifted her chin and shook back her shoulder-length, platinum curls.
He swallowed, loudly. “What’ll it be? Water? Soda?” He raised a hand to buzz his assistant on the intercom. “We have coffee, too, if that’s your poison.”
“No.” You are. My obsession. My desire. Ever since, I wrote that article about you in the sports section of the Dallas paper four years ago. Ever since, I printed a retraction, resigned for my foolishness and began to plan how I’d make more amends. Ever since, I began to think of how I could take you into my bed and kiss the hurt away.
She squeezed her labia together and felt a trickle of perspiration wend its way between her breasts.
“Water. Cool water. Please.”
“Two waters, Reata,” he told his assistant as he squinted at Shana and looked for all the world like a guy who was trying to concentrate.
Shana would have laughed, but the lure of him had her wiggling forward in her chair to try to massage her pulsing cunt. Four years ago, she had been frightened by her response to his languid cowboy sexuality. She’d been young, twenty-two, in her first job at a newspaper and so naïve, both professionally and sexually. Since she’d ruined Kade, she’d corrected both lacks. Now, she thoroughly examined whatever she did before she opened her mouth or typed one word. To complement that, she also knew what she liked in men. Honest, forthright, funny. But no one held her fascination like hunky, jovial Kade Stapleton.
The man was heavenly. No man could match his bronze, god-like tan, that sun-kissed shock of yellow-gold hair hanging over grass-green eyes. Or the rock-hewn features with generous lips and a mellow bass voice that melted her into a puddle of foolish desire. No real-life lover ever compared in looks or bedroom manner. This lack in her life was her penance, she knew, for doing him wrong and declaring he was a hot-head with the judges.
Once more, regret flooded her, and she yearned to use her body to heal the wounds she’d made. But how could she without looking like a horny lunatic?
Stifling a moan, she bent and dug through her briefcase for her copy of the PR proposal. All thumbs, she couldn’t find the thing.
His tone was husky. Dark and suggestive. She looked up to see Kade devouring her with those wide, green eyes, his look hypnotic, his mouth parting. A vision of him using that mouth to tantalize her sensitive nipples made her yelp.
“Chair not comfortable?” he asked, suddenly solicitous.
“Oh. No. No, no. I’m fine. Chair’s fine.” Brain’s dead, but my pussy’s on fire.
“Here’s your water,” he said, sounding relieved when his assistant walked in, handed both to him then shut the door behind her.
He sprang up to give Shana one of the bottles. “Would you like a glass? Ice?”
“No. Thanks.” Shana stuck out her hand. “Water’s good. Plain. Warm.”
But when he reached out to give it to her, her fingers touched his, and this time, the shock was electric. Riveting.
He clamped her hand to his rock-hard chest and rubbed her fingers. “Christ, sorry. You okay?”
“Sure.” She stared up at him, automatically reaching out to caress her own burning hand and, in the process, his ribs, too. “Are you all right?” she asked him, more than thunderstruck. That shock is exactly the voltage I feel every night when you put your mouth on mine. That shock is what I crave when you put your fingers on my pussy and spread my lips for you to lick all my juices. “Feels divine.”
Copyright 2010 Cerise DeLand All rights reserved.
by Cerise DeLand
Resplendence Publishing Feb. 23, 2010