![]() Perfect Grump
-- EXCERPT: I’m in the arms of Chicago’s hottest billionaire bad boy. Only, he’s no bad boy, no scandalicious ticket to tabloid-worthy misadventures. He’s morphed into Prince Charming. He’s too well-behaved. I’m scared. “Hey, Nick?” I whisper. “Yeah?” His warm minty scent tickles my nostrils, a rich cologne tinged with a hint of his sweat and heady testosterone. “What’s really going on?” He looks down at me, his head tilted. “What do you mean? Last I checked, you lied about how much you suck at dancing, Reese. Everybody’s watching us and they love it.” Not what I’m getting at. I’m about to ask what I’m really here for tonight and why, because it’s obvious to me there’s more going on here. This doesn’t add up, and it’s not my paranoia speaking. Yes, I’m playing a part—his fake date. I’m here, spinning in this beautiful ballroom, hanging on his arm. I’m not even freaking out as we fade into each other, as he enthralls me a little more with every breath, or when people start aiming their phones at us for pictures. But this isn’t what we’re here for. I’m guessing everyone in this room has an opinion of Nick Brandt, one way or another. We’re not here to impress them. Who, then? What? Why? Before I can ask, the lights go lower. The dancing turns infectious, and we’re surrounded by gently twisting bodies, happy couples glued to each other’s eyes and following his lead. Our lead. A few of those couples wear their desire, their love, full of longing looks and knowing glances and wandering hands. Oh, God. Maybe it’s the atmosphere or maybe it’s his smell, but before I know what I’m doing, I’ve leaned my head on his chest. And then I’m just lost in the moment, his willing captive, too overwhelmed for words when his thick hand caresses my face. His fingers dip under my chin, urging me up to a beautiful doom. It’s in those eyes. They glow like soft green stars, intense and urgent, asking a silent question—or is it a demand? What will you do, Miss Halle? I hear him saying in my head. What will you do if I take that mouth right here? Right now? My toes scrunch up in my shoes. Our movement slows, our eyes lock, our breaths turn heavy. And when his gorgeous face sweeps down, so ready to devour me, I don’t even have a prayer. Our lips collide like they’re opening a portal to another world, hot and wet and wild. He tastes as good as he looks. He deepens his kiss, drinking me in with a muffled groan. He swipes his tongue in my mouth, chasing me, swinging between a litany of teases and filthy, claiming strokes. The nip of teeth against my bottom lip makes me squeak—but holy flipping bossman, I don’t care. All the tension that’s been choking us for months—all the magnetism since the day he truly met me as a woman at that office pizza party—boils up my throat and into my fingers. I’m clinging to him, moaning, soaked and wanting and too stunned for words. He gives back a guttural noise that’s too much like the sound I imagine he’d make inside me. ![]()
GIVEAWAY!
1 Comment
Sue G.
8/22/2021 09:36:15 pm
This sounds fun!
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