Liz Everly's Blog, page 25

It’s the End of the World as We Know It : Sexy Sunday Snippet

Hey folks! Here’s a snippet of C.M. Connor’s latest 1:05.A.M. And check out the interview I did with him about his ex-soldier past here.

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Blurb:

In a dystopian future, an assassin must choose to fulfill a final contract or keep the love of her life alive.

Yearning for a normal life, assassin Karmen-Marie has had enough of of the post-apocalyptic world. Forced to take one last assassin’s job, Karma sets out across the frozen landscape of Earth.

Rea MacBain’s job is to ensure the safety of Earth’s precious few water purification plants. He believes his abusive past must stay buried under the snow that encases his domain.

Ice cold assassin’s blood drives the woman sent to kill him, yet it ignites the fire which thaws Rea’s heart.

Karma rolled out of bed and landed lightly on her feet. She grabbed one of Rea’s button-up shirts out of the plastic drawers and slipped the garment over her head. Without making a sound, she crept into the bathroom and used the facility before returning to the bedroom again.

She came out to check on Rea, who was snoring. He looked handsome even while he slept. A lock of red hair covered one eye. His face seemed serene, and worry was no longer evident. She resisted the urge to crawl back in bed and wake him in a very naughty way. He looked so calm she didn’t have the heart to wake him, even if it would be fun. It made sense why he was sleeping so hard. They had both been up most of the night. Not that she was complaining.

Last night, she’d been awakened by him twice, and both times were everything she had missed about him.

The first time he woke her, he was sweet and loving. He carefully pulled her to him and touched every inch of her as if trying to memorize her skin. She could tell by his murmurs of approval that he missed her screams of pleasure and her declarations of love.

The second time was when she’d stroked him until out of pure frustration, he flipped her over and took her from behind. She thought she should be more tired after a night like that, but for some reason, she was refreshed.

Instead of getting back into bed she meandered over to the computer and clicked on a few of the buttons that showed different areas of the water bases. Strange, but snooping around the computer seemed natural. Nothing looked familiar on the screen like she’d hoped, so she roamed into the kitchen space. She figured she could make Rea food, and she ambled past the dark wood cabinets and tan counter. She opened some broken drawers and the fridge, but she didn’t know what he would want to eat.

Frustration flooded her that she couldn’t remember even the most basic item of what he ate for breakfast. Giving up on food, she glanced at the clock on the microwave in the kitchen. The time blinked 7:11. Her body had summoned her awake fairly early. She thought about that. She was restless and fidgety. Did she normally get up this early? She used to love to sleep in and snuggle all day in bed with Rea.

As she glanced around the room, a few other thoughts struck her as well. From what she gathered, this was an entirely different water base than the one they grew up on. If that was the case, everything looked exactly like she remembered. The broken plastic drawers that held his clothes were in the corner. The blanket on his bed was the same thin rag with the blue diamond pattern. The few plates and cups in the cabinets were adorned with the same green flowers, and even the bathroom layout was identical to what she remembered. If she and Rea were so much older, why was their home the same? Why had the two of them not cleaned his room and decorated together? Did Rea’s father still hate her? She remembered how bad life got right after Rea’s mom died. Was he still being beaten? Too many unanswered questions nagged at her, and she resolved to get some answers today. When Rea awoke, she’d ask him then.

Karma started to head back to the computer, not bothering to turn on any of the lights since her eyes had adjusted to the dark perfectly. As she moved silently, so as to not wake Rea, she passed by the kitchen table. When she reached one of the pushed-in chairs, her ears picked up the sound of footsteps outside the door. She moved around the table and checked to see if Rea had awoken.

Curious about who’d be here this early, she opened the door. Gears was standing just outside the door with his fist raised in a position ready to knock. A look of surprise was written on his face when she appeared. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Good morning,” she whispered with a slight nod.

She didn’t know why, but around the doctor she was edgy, like there was a secret he wasn’t telling her. Gears looked at her with apparent distrust, and she considered all the actions she could’ve done to warrant that look.

“Good morning, Karma.” Gears gave a solemn smile. He looked around the hall nervously. He then tried to lean past the doorframe. “Is Rea here?”

“He’s sleeping,” Karma answered. She kept her voice low so as to not wake Rea. Why did everyone keep asking stupid questions? Of course, Rea was here, where else would he be? She waited for Gears to say more. Did he regularly show up this early? That seemed odd to her also.

“He’s sleeping, really?” Gears’ eyes went wide with astonishment, but Karma couldn’t think of what could possibly be so shocking about that. People had to sleep, didn’t they?

As a snore cut into the brief pause in the conversation, Gears began looking her up and down. She could tell he was assessing her and drawing conclusions as to what they’d been doing during the night. She tugged at the bottom of Rea’s shirt and wished the fabric was longer. She also awkwardly brushed some of her wild hair so the tendrils didn’t look like she had just been rolling around in bed.

“He had intercourse with you?” Gears voice went high on the last word. He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up his nose in an almost nervous gesture. Karma thought she was either getting used to that particular move, or his action was familiar.

“We’re grown adults. I don’t think you should be concerned. People do sleep, and they have sex, and they eat too. It’s all really boring, actually. I thought you were a doctor.”

There was something about how Gears reacted to her that bothered her. She had the impression that when she was talking to him, he was silently interrogating her. Maybe she had caused some type of rift between Rea and Gears. It was also possible Rea’s father could favor the doctor over Rea. There was a chance Gears worked for Rea’s dad and was reporting back. If they’d just tell her what was wrong, she was sure she could make amends.

Gears seemed to recover and collect his reaction. She noticed a tiny smile play on his lips.

“That came out all wrong. You’re right. I’m a doctor. I was making sure you were healing. I didn’t want you to engage in any activity that might not be good for your health. I know you’re an adult. I was concerned as your doctor only. Just keep your wounds clean. That’s important. I always say cleanliness is next to godliness.” Gears paused awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure what he should say next. “I brought you some clothes my girlfriend left at my place. I thought you might need them.”

Karma looked down at the pile of fabric in his arms and relaxed. Maybe she’d gotten Gears all wrong. She offered him a small smile. She shouldn’t be so quick to judge him. He was the doctor here, and she should give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Thanks for the clothes. I didn’t know I didn’t have any here. Where are my clothes normally?”

Gears looked uneasy and glanced past her again. Was he hoping Rea would answer her question? Another awkward silence filled the air between them.

“Maybe you should wake Rea and tell him what time it is. You can ask him your questions. This is a friendly doctor’s suggestion.” With that curious sentence, the doctor quickly departed.

Karma was left standing in the doorway, and as Gears left she mulled over what to do next.

She supposed the first thing she should do is get dressed. She closed the door and went into the bathroom to try on the clothes he’d brought.

One by one, she tried them on, only to find nothing fitted properly. If this clothing was Gears’ girlfriend’s, then the other girl was a lot shorter than she was, Karma concluded.

Finally, she discovered a pair of black stretchy pants that had enough fabric to cover her legs down to her knees. She then chose the largest shirt she could find. The shirt was royal blue, and the garment covered her breasts but clung to her like a second skin. Since she couldn’t find anything else that looked like it might fit, she dressed. She then brushed out her hair with a hairbrush she found on a shelf.

As soon as she got back into the bedroom, she decided it was probably a good idea to take Gears’ advice and wake Rea. A part of her didn’t want to wake him, but if he had somewhere to be, she’d hate if he slept all day and missed his appointments.

From what she gathered, Rea was somewhat of a busy man. If his father were still around, he wouldn’t be happy if Rea wasn’t doing whatever he was supposed to be doing. The idea of meeting an irate Rea’s father was a frightening thought. She remembered how he used to bust into Rea’s room. She hoped he didn’t still do that.

Karma lay down on her side and cushioned her head next to Rea’s face. She softly kissed him and waited to see if he’d wake up. He mumbled incoherent words in his sleep and moved closer to her, as if seeking her out. When his hand found her breast, he brushed his fingers over her shirt and then gave a lazy smile. She loved when he did that, and she scooted closer so he could wrap his arm all the way around her.

“Hey, handsome,” Karma purred as his eyes leisurely lifted open.

“What’s going on, Kitten?” he mumbled sleepily, still caressing her.

“It’s past seven, so I thought maybe I should wake you. We could have breakfast or…”

The word “seven” brought out the strangest reaction in Rea. One moment he was snuggled next to her making lazy circles on her back, and the next second he’d thrown himself out of bed like he’d been laying on razor blades.

“After seven? Shit!”

Karma scooted to the edge of the bed as Rea started to wildly throw on clothes. She was amazed at the speed with which he could get fully clothed. When he was dressed, he shoved his feet into boots that lay next to the bed.

“What’s wrong with seven?”

“I’m late for training. I haven’t been late since—” Rea looked like he was going to say more, but he stopped himself and ran his hand through his rumpled hair.

Frowning, he crossed to the door of the bathroom and disappeared. Karma sat on the side of the bed and waited for him to come back. How was she supposed to know what time he had training? She didn’t even know where her clothes were.

Rea rushed out of the bathroom and headed straight for the exit. He paused at the door with his hand on the knob. For a moment, she thought he was going to exit without saying anything more to her. He spun around and looked at her like he’d completely forgotten she was there. Karma was mildly annoyed.

“Damn it. What am I supposed to do with you?” He swore two more times and then swiveled his head back to the door.

Karma stood up and went to stand next to him. She could tell he was worried, and she could see the war within him starting.

Ignoring his frantic state, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and brought his mouth down to hers. She kissed him with barely leashed passion, not letting him go for a second. She swept her tongue inside his mouth to taste the toothpaste he used. She clutched at his muscled upper arms. She didn’t let go until he wrapped his arms around her body and crushed her to him. When he finally surfaced from the kiss, he looked at her with a bemused expression on his face.

“What was that for?”

“I wanted to say good morning before you left, and tell you I had a great time last night. I can wait here for you. I can sit around and try to get my memory back while you’re out. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Rea’s expression turned grim. He ran his hands through his hair again. Her words had the opposite effect on him than what she’d intended. He looked more worried now than before.

“No, you can’t stay here alone. Your boots are over by the chair. Put them on and come with me.”

“You want me to go with you… to training?” Karma was truly astounded.

Once she’d snuck in to watch his training with his dad. After his father had humiliated him in front of everyone, he then pitted Rea against two men who were better trained.

Karma remembered keenly watching Rea get slammed into the mud repetitively. When Rea found out she’d seen it, he had made her promise to never come to training again. She’d honored his request because she couldn’t watch his sadistic father in action ever again. Watching the love of her life get crushed had been a hell like none other.

“Hurry up.” He pulled a pair of socks from a drawer and tossed them at her.

Karma was still stunned he invited her. She fumbled with the socks as she put them on. She grabbed the soft black leather boots he pointed to and sat in a chair by the table. They felt like they were made for her, and she zipped them up over her calf. These boots gave her a measure of comfort because out of everything, these were familiar. A memory of her zipping up these boots popped into her head, and the thought was comforting.

Rea didn’t spare her another glance as they hurried out into the hallway. As Karma trotted along after Rea, she glanced at the empty rooms to the right and left. The plain cement walls were smooth on either side of the large walkway. Bright round lights hung every few feet above them. Each room they passed had the door open, and empty beds and sparse furniture came into view.

“Why are all the rooms around here empty? Are we antisocial?”

“It’s ‘coz once I leave to build a new base my room and all the rooms in this area go to the scientists and their families. Once the men are trained, they’ll be the police and the safety of this water base. Scientists, women, and children can’t move onto the base until it is safe. It’s my father’s rule.”

“I didn’t know this was a new base. Thank you for bringing me along while you build it. I heard you’re not supposed to do that.” Karma mulled what they’d been discussing. Was having no one around him hard, or did he want it that way? Maybe he liked that his life was just her, him, and his dad. Karma shuddered at the thought of Rea’s father. She was glad she hadn’t run into him so far.

After a few seconds of silence while they walked, she started to wonder if they were going to stay on this base or if they were going to move on to build another one.

“After this base is fully operational and people move in, will a family or a couple live in your room? After the scientists and workers move here and this base is safe, where do we go?”

They turned a sharp corner and headed down similar hallways of cold cement with large fat columns. The walls were sterile, like they were waiting for someone to decorate them. She thought that adding finishing touches to a base might be fun.

“My room and the others around me are for single people and sometimes for couples. Down further, there are rooms for larger families. This way is past the greenhouses that grow some of the food. Spouses and children are responsible for the underground farms that get added after I leave.” Rea sounded resigned to this, like he was a tour guide educating her. “All the best shit gets added after I leave.”

Rea hurried Karma along over the rock flooring, past the different areas of the water base. They rushed past large equipment rooms where the scientists would clean water from the surface and put it into huge tanks. They passed barracks for the single men and an enormous empty cafeteria.

Something about the greenhouses was familiar to her. The time 1:05 a.m. leaped into her mind. As soon as she tried to catch the memory, it was gone again.

“Until the families get here, who takes care of the greenhouses?” she asked to chase away the perturbed feeling seeping into her. She was practically running to keep up, and she was irked she had no memories.

“All the men have to spend time in the greenhouses. It’s partly ‘coz we have to grow our food, but mostly it’s mandatory that we all have to be under the sun lamps. Gears gets after us if our vitamin D drops too low. He checks our health once a month.”

“That makes sense, but you didn’t really answer my other question. Where do we go after this water base is built? What do we do when we don’t have Gears with us? Does he come with us, or is there another doctor?”

“We?” Rea gave her a quick side glance and kept up his jog.

“Yes, we. Are we going to a new base to train others, or are we going back to an already established base? Do we stay here? Where does your father go? Does he come with us? Does Gears move with us? I thought he was a close friend of yours.”

Rea abruptly stopped. They came to a large metal door and paused. His hand reached out and grasped a long metal handle.

“That’s a lot of questions, Kitten. We’re going to work it out.” He spoke meticulously. He stopped and turned around to look at her. A fierce frown wrinkled his brow as his eyes slashed over her. “What are you wearing?” he added after studying her.

“Clothes.”

“That’s not clothes. That’s a second skin, only in color.”

Karma looked down at herself and shrugged. The boots came up to where the black stretch pants left off, and the blue shirt covered her torso even though the top was snug. The clothes did fit, but he was right about the fabric not hiding much. It seemed tight, but she could move easily.

“Gears gave the clothes to me this morning.” She smoothed her hand over the bottom of her shirt. “He also told me to wake you. I think he was surprised you slept in.”

“I bet he was,” Rea grumbled. He then mumbled under his breath a few more words about how Gears was trying to make his life miserable. With a frown now permanently plastered on his face, he put his hand on the doorknob and swung the door wide. The entrance was a large double door, but the opposite one stayed firmly shut.

“I would’ve worn my clothes if you’d told me where they are,” Karma commented to his back. What did he expect her to do, run around the base naked? This was better than nothing.

“We can work that out too,” he grumbled, preoccupied.

It was apparent he was now dismissing her from his thoughts.

Rea’s stride was swift. He entered the room with head held high and back straight. Karma followed him, and she recognized the huge training room. The massive room had only a mud floor, but the ceiling was cement and at least twelve feet high.

She looked up at the columns, which held up the giant chamber, and she let her eyes pass over the different things going on around her. On her left side, near where they entered, two shirtless men were fighting with jagged looking knives. On the opposite side, a large group of men was practicing with some type of club and shield. The center of the room was only a big ring, which wasn’t occupied, but all the way around the circle, men were standing as if waiting for someone to enter it. The ring in the center was familiar. She remembered Rea in the center, being beaten to the floor while everyone stood by watching. A part of her knew this wasn’t the exact same ring, but the area was so recognizable a feeling of helplessness swamped her.

To banish the raw memory, she looked at all the different sizes and shapes of the men around her. Every male was fit, but they were as different as light and dark. Some were black, some Hispanic, and some maybe Asian or Indian. Tall, short, and medium, the room was a collage of sturdy warriors, and all of them were intimidating and well built.

“I want you to stay close to me. Don’t talk or draw attention to yourself. You already look too damn sexy. These men haven’t been around a woman for a few months. Dad says women are a distraction and shouldn’t be around during training. Especially, not a hot woman like you.”

“You think I’m sexy?” she purred.

“I said don’t talk,” Rea groused, but Karma couldn’t help but smile anyway.

“If women aren’t allowed on the base because they’re not safe, then why did you let me come?”

Karma knew she shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t help herself. She hated that she still didn’t have the ability to recall even the simplest information.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

He was brushing her off again. Karma wanted to be offended, but she wasn’t. She could tell Rea wasn’t happy about bringing her near a bunch of men while they were in training mode. If Rea hated doing this so much, he must have an excellent reason to have asked her along. He wasn’t the kind of man to jeopardize her safety or cause problems for his men.

Even though he told her not to say a word, it didn’t matter. Her presence caused enough of a stir that she might’ve shouted at all of them instead of meekly walking behind Rea.

“Boss-Mac got a piece of ass?” someone in the back called out.

“I thought he was gay!” Another man remarked loudly.

“I heard that, Essie,” Rea yelled over his shoulder as he kept striding forward.

A few other men gave out hoots and whistles behind her.

“Now we know why he slept in.” A man to her left gave out a sharp bark of laughter at his own comment.

“Did you bring us a prize to fight for? I heard your dad used to do that. If we get to do her when we win, then I’m first up to fight.” A large Asian man to her right spoke, as his eyes raked her body like she wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing.

He adjusted the small pistol on his belt so he could grab his balls and wink at her.

The vulgar way he looked at her made Karma’s blood run cold with rage she didn’t even know she had inside of her. She thought she wasn’t a violent person, but the idea of grabbing his gun off of his belt and beating him over the head with it filled her head.

“I’m up for fighting this morning if she’s the prize,” a shorter blond with a big nose called out from the back of the crowd. “Hell, I’d even marry her.”

Karma felt like a piece of meat thrown to dogs. She quickly assessed what other weapons were around the room and which ones would be easiest to steal.

“Hey, Boss-Mac,” a brawny brunet man standing next to her side spoke up. “You said if we’re late for training then we have to be in the ring first thing to fight you, so who do you fight if you’re late?”

Karma studied Rea. His face looked like it could’ve been carved in granite. He seemed like he didn’t care if anyone had sex with her or if he had to fight in the ring with all of them. He took bored to a whole new level. Karma couldn’t believe this was the man she’d had sex with last night. When he was with her, he was so expressive and caring. Now he looked like an icy stranger.

“First off, I’m the Water Base Boss. I get the women around here. If you guys want to get laid, then become better fighters. Learn the rules to make this base secure. After it’s safe, you can chase as much trim as you want. You can also bring your girlfriends and wives here once this is fully operational.

“Second, as boss, I can be late. However, to honor the rule, I’ll step into the pit. Who is first up for me to beat?”

Rea strolled into the center of the ring without even looking back at her. Karma found her hands going up to her hair. She began swiftly pulling the strands into a tight ponytail. She didn’t know why she was doing it, but the action was as if it was ingrained in her to have her hair out of the way right at this time.

From behind her, she heard some of the men grumbling about fighting Rea. She could tell from his overpowering confidence he wasn’t worried about sparring with any of them. She recalled a bandage near his rib cage that she’d seen last night. She couldn’t believe he’d fight with an injury. He didn’t appear concerned about any of it, injury or men.

As he stood casually in the center of the mud, he waited like he had all the time in the world. His body was hard and muscular, with strength radiating off of him. Karma’s body felt like her insides were winding up. As if someone was twisting her internal organs. She could feel the heat of the men around her pressing in, and a deeply rooted battle cry was trapped in her throat. She wanted to fight all these men. She wanted to defend Rea even though he was standing so mighty before her. She didn’t want him to stand alone.

“I’ll take you on, Boss-Mac,” a Hispanic-looking man, with a thick accent, called from behind her.

Karma turned slightly to look at the tall, husky, curly-haired man casually striding toward the ring. He stopped when he came to her, and something about him seemed recognizable. He smiled at her, but the flash of teeth wasn’t friendly.

“How about you watch a real fighter?” Curly spoke as he walked up to her. He was talking loudly enough for Rea to hear from where he was standing.

She glanced to Rea to gauge what he wanted her to do. Once Curly had Rea’s attention, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him.

“Playing a damsel in distress, Karma?” he whispered to her before he nuzzled her neck. No one seemed to hear what he said, and she had no idea what that meant.

Disgust filled her at his smell and touch. She tugged away from him. He only laughed at her squirming, but he let her go and slapped her ass. She restrained herself from striking him, but her muscles tensed to do so.

The slap seemed loud in the space. Although it only took seconds for him to touch her, it was as if time had slowed down. She saw Rea’s eyes darken only slightly, but he kept his face as an unreadable mask.

“Quit fucking around,” Rea barked out.

When Curly entered the ring, Karma could tell he was slightly shorter than Rea but just as fit. The two of them looked evenly matched. Karma’s heart dropped to her stomach. Curly was a good fighter. He was dangerous. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did, and she trusted her knowledge.

As soon as the two men faced each other, Rea’s eyes narrowed. Karma started to study Curly as if she was going to enter the bout with him herself.

“Who are you?” Rea asked as they eyed each other.

“My name’s Nash,” Nash spoke with a slow drawl. “I’m new.”

“I don’t remember seeing your name on the roster.” Rea’s voice was flat.

“I transferred here from another base. I showed up yesterday, around the time you kicked out Charlie and Josh. I heard about what went down. Guess I can’t blame you. If I were fucking an ass as fine as that bitch, I wouldn’t be sharing either.”

Rea’s anger swelled noticeably. He threw the first punch.

Nash blocked Rea’s fist. He landed his elbow straight into Rea’s gut. Rea bent over with the hit. The crowd of men cheered. The room filled with noise all the way up to the ceiling. Rea got back up quickly, and his eyes flashed with rage. He threw his entire body at Nash, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist. They wrestled to the floor. More cheering followed.

Karma moved closer to the ring. Rea’s eyes caught hers for a moment. She shifted slightly through the men, who were now captivated by the spectacle before them. They cheered and shouted. None of them even noticed her any longer.

As Karma moved through the crowd, she had the urge to call out the command for Rea to focus on what he was doing. He needed to stop looking for her.

Biting her tongue, she moved until she was standing on the opposite side of the ring. She was following Nash’s movements. She didn’t know why. As she moved, the two men exchanged hit after hit. Nash was pounding at Rea’s injured side. Blood could be seen smearing across his shirt.

She thought she should be appalled at the blood, which splattered on the dirt, or at the crack of bone hitting bone, but she found the fighting dull. She was resigned, bored even. An odd jaded feeling was filling her. She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet. She was waiting for something. Even though she was waiting, she didn’t know what she was looking for.

The air crackled with unexplained discord. What was she expecting to happen? It was the way Nash moved, the way he glanced at her. His actions were speaking silently to her. She trusted her instincts.

Everything happened so fast Karma wasn’t sure why she did what she did.

As she saw Nash pull a sleek steel dagger from the side of his boot, she turned and grabbed a handle-heavy throwing knife off the belt of the man shoved next to her. For some reason, she wasn’t happy with his knife selection, but that idea came like a quick bolt of lightning. She balanced the rusted blade on her palm. The action was as if she’d done this a thousand times.

With ease, she threw the cumbersome knife with practiced grace. The throwing knife lodged in Nash’s hand. Swiftly, she moved again between two more men. Nash hollered with pain and surprise. His eyes shot to her for a second. Her actions startled the man next to her, but she slinked away from him around the circle. None of the men moved quickly enough to stop her.

Stepping to the edge of the circle, Karma assessed what other weapons were within arm’s reach. The dagger Nash had held now lay on the ground, forgotten. The knife was stained with mud and splattered blood. The blade had never reached its intended destination.

Nash swore at her in fury.

Rea stumbled backward. Shock etched into his features as he rotated his head toward her.

Nash brought his hand, with her knife stuck between the bones, down to his middle. With a concentrated effort, he pulled the oxidized blade from his skin. Dark, rich blood spurted in all directions.

Now that he had the old throwing knife clutched in his good hand, Nash turned to her. His eyes were ablaze in outrage.

“Fuck you, Karma. I knew you switched sides, you sneaky bitch.”

The entire room stilled collectively as if they were holding their breath.

Nash charged her. In a flash, she felt the swipe of the knife at her belly. Karma jumped back before the next swing of Nash’s weapon. Warm blood and ripped cloth fell to the ground. Her body reacted even as her mind went blank.

Karma crouched low, sweeping her leg under Nash. She knocked him backward to the dirt. As her hand reached for the gun hung on the belt of the man behind her, her mind rejected her actions. She fought to focus on what was happening. This was starting to feel like a dream… or a nightmare.

Rea threw his body over Nash. He kept him pinned to the ground. They grappled for the knife Nash still held. Rea’s hands forced Nash to stab himself in the neck.

The sound of a single shot being fired reverberated around the room. Scared, she glanced around to see who’d fired a gun.

Finally, there was only an eerie silence in the training room.

Blood flowed freely from the huge gash that had been cut into Nash’s throat. As the dirt around him turned red, she spun away. She was lightheaded and trying valiantly to not vomit. What had she done? She looked around the room. The weight of every man’s eyes was on her. This time, they weren’t assessing her figure; they were afraid of her. Every man, including Rea, looked tense and alert.

Rea stood unsteadily. He stepped between her and the lifeless body. He didn’t speak but merely stared at her like all the other men. Her eyes jumped to him. She wanted to beg him to hold her, to chase away what had happened. She wanted Rea to comfort her, to tell her he was there for her.

“Karma?” Rea said her name slowly.

His voice wasn’t more than a whisper of sound, but she felt it in her heart. She could feel the persistent connection that said he’d be there, no matter what. Rea would be there for her. He loved her.

“Kitten?” Again he spoke slowly, like he was trying to soothe a wild animal.

He took one tiny step forward, then another, until he was only a few inches from her. Carefully, with his hands steady, he reached out to her.

Karma looked down at her hands when he reached for them. She realized she was tightly gripping a gun. Where had she gotten it? When?

Wildly, she spun around. She let her eyes return to the dead man on the floor. A perfect bullet hole was in the center of his forehead. What had she done? Tears welled up at the corners of her eyes, but she couldn’t seem to let them fall. Everyone was waiting for her to give up the weapon she still clutched. This was evident without the words being spoken. She didn’t want to let the gun go. That idea frightened her more than anything that had happened so far.

She released the small pistol into Rea’s hand and waited to see what would happen. She had killed a man who worked for Rea. What would Rea’s father say when he found out? What would Rea do?

“Gears,” Rea called to the doctor, who appeared at his side. Karma was stunned to see him. She didn’t even know he’d shown up in the training room. “Take Karma back to my room and check her injuries. Check her memories.” Rea linked his fingers through hers. They rushed through the men who moved out of their way like they were an avalanche.

They got to the far side of the room with Gears following them. Rea opened the door. The hallway looked like a welcoming sanctuary that would let her escape this madness. She turned to Gears, who was now standing next to her. Gears and Rea exchanged a look. The men were silent, which made the training room seem abnormal.

“Gears, I’ll stay here and handle the body. I have to speak to Ken. Take Karma home. I’ll be there soon.” Rea pressed the gun she’d had moments ago into Gears’ hand. Gears looked at the weapon and wagged his head back and forth.

“Back to your room again? Really? Don’t you think you should reconsider that?” Gears pushed the weapon back at Rea. Rea pushed it back again.

“Take her to my room. Do what you have to do to look after her. I’ll tell Ken what happened and have him handle it. I’ll be there soon.”

“I don’t think so.” Gears shoved the gun back again into Rea’s hand. “What if this triggers all her memories? Does Ken know what’s going on? Maybe I should talk to him instead. You go with Karma. I’ll stay.”

Gears’ hands were shaking. He looked like he was scared of going with her. She hated that. He took a step away from her and moved closer to the training room door.

Rea was not to be swayed. He stepped in front of Gears, handing the gun to him one final time.

“I’ll only be a minute. Ken will help me remove the body and talk to the men. He’s efficient.” Rea started to push him out into the hallway. Karma meekly followed, feeling dejected.

“What if she…” Gears trailed off.

“She’ll be fine,” Rea insisted.

Rea returned to the crowd of men around the body. At this point, she didn’t believe him. She thought she’d never be fine again.

Want more? Buy it, bitches! Available on AMAZON  or KOBO.

 

 

 

 

Sexy Saturday Round Up

[image error]By Elizabeth Shore

Hey Sexies! Happy long weekend. It’s time to pull out the grill, shake out the blanket, and get the summer started. While you’re enjoying the extra day off from the daily grind – and remembering to thank our brave men and women for their service – we’ve got some delicious reading to recommend. So if you happen to be in the northeast where the forecast is less-than-summery this weekend, at least you can still enjoy the heat.

For the Love of the M/M Erotic Romance Genre

by Elizabeth SaFleur

My first Male-Male (M/M) erotic romance was Joey W. Hill’s Rough Canvas. The story of Thomas and Marcus will always have a place in my heart, and not just because the story is hot as Hades. At some point in the story, I lost sight of the character’s gender and simply relished in their journey. This book proves #LoveIsLove and started my quest for more M/M stories.

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When his father dies, Thomas is forced to abandon a burgeoning art career in New York. As difficult as it was to give up his lifelong dream, it’s nothing next to walking away from the man he loves. Marcus taught him to embrace who he is, a sexual submissive who responds to the touch of only one Master. But why would the sophisticated Marcus need some farm kid from the South?

Then Marcus shows up and offers him a way to continue his art career and help his family. There’s only one hitch – he asks Thomas to spend a week with him in the Berkshires. Thomas knows he should refuse. But he’s never been able to say no to his Master.

But, somewhere along the lines, life took over and I didn’t pick up another M/M for some time. This isn’t because I didn’t want to, just chalk up my lack of M/M reading to general life overwhelm.

So, I asked a large Facebook group with a lot of M/M erotic romance lovers this question: What is the one book someone should read when seeking to explore the M/M erotic romance for the first time? Below are few names that came up a lot. I mean, a lot-a lot.

I haven’t read these titles yet, but they’ve been added to my TBR pile.

Cambria Hebert. Her books Rev and Blur were named, specifically.

[image error] [image error] Trent Mask puts the REV in revolution.

A line has been drawn.

Indie vs Pro

Here at GearShark, we’re straddling that line to bring you exclusive coverage of what some have dubbed the war of racing.

Every war starts with a spark and ends in revolution.

Drew Forrester was the spark,

but his second-in-command is the REVolution.

What does it take to stand brave in the face of opposition?

Resolve of steel…

Stubborn will…

And a heart that refuses to give up.

It isn’t just the drivers in this war.

The revolution is about more than just racing.

It’s about shattering labels and taking risks.

So we asked Trent Mask: Truth or Dare?

His answer?

Both.

Kindle Alexander. Specifically, Always . Given how many awards it’s received, no wonder! 

[image error]Favorite All-Time M/M Romance 2015 Member Choice Awards Goodreads

Book of the Year 2014 Member Choice Awards Goodreads MM Romance

Book of the Year 2014 Sinfully Sexy Book Reviews

LGBT Book of the Year 2015 eLit Awards

Born to a prestigious political family, Avery Adams plays as hard as he works. The gorgeous, charismatic attorney is used to getting what he wants, even the frequent one-night stands that earn him his well-deserved playboy reputation. When some of the most prominent men in politics suggest he run for senate, Avery decides the time has come to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps. With a strategy in place and the campaign wheels rolling, Avery is ready to jump on the legislative fast track, full steam ahead. But no amount of planning prepares him for the handsome, uptight restaurateur who might derail his political future.

Easy isn’t even in the top thousand words to describe Kane Dalton’s life after his father, a devout Southern Baptist minister, kicks him out of the family home for questioning his sexual orientation. Despite all the rotten tomatoes life throws his way, Kane makes something of himself. Between owning a thriving upscale Italian restaurant in the heart of downtown Minneapolis and managing his long-term boyfriend, his plate is full. He struggles to get past the teachings of his childhood to fully accept his sexuality and rid himself of the doubts brought on by his religious upbringing. The last thing he needs is the yummy, sophisticated, blond-haired distraction sitting at table thirty-four.

3. Sloane Kennedy – Her Protectors series was recommended.

[image error][image error] But what I felt most was the perfection of what these two men were giving me. And I knew in that moment that I would do anything to keep it. Anything. –Cole

After four years abroad, artist Jonas Davenport has come home to start building his dream of owning his own art studio and gallery. But just as he’s ready to put the darkness of his past behind him forever, it comes roaring back with a vengeance.

The only thing keeping ex-cop Mace Calhoun from eating his own gun after an unthinkable loss is his role in an underground syndicate that seeks to get justice for the innocent by taking the lives of the guilty. Ending the life of the young artist who committed unspeakable crimes against the most vulnerable of victims should have been the easiest thing in the world. So why can’t he bring himself to pull the trigger?

After years of fighting in an endless, soul-sucking war, Navy SEAL Cole Bridgerton has come home to fight another battle – dealing with the discovery that the younger sister who ran away from home eight years earlier is lost to him forever. He needs answers and the only person who can give them to him is a young man struggling to put his life back together. But he never expected to feel something more for the haunted artist.

Cole and Mace. One lives by the rules, the other makes his own. One seeks justice through the law while the other seeks it with his gun. Two men, one light, one dark, will find themselves and each other when they’re forced to stand side by side to protect Jonas from an unseen evil that will stop at nothing to silence the young artist forever.

But each man’s scars run deep and even the strength of three may not be enough to save them…

4. Mary Calmes. This cover and title alone begged for one-clicking.

[image error] [image error] Deputy US Marshal Miro Jones has a reputation for being calm and collected under fire. These traits serve him well with his hotshot partner, Ian Doyle, the kind of guy who can start a fight in an empty room. In the past three years of their life-and-death job, they’ve gone from strangers to professional coworkers to devoted teammates and best friends. Miro’s cultivated blind faith in the man who has his back… faith and something more.

As a marshal and a soldier, Ian’s expected to lead. But the power and control that brings Ian success and fulfillment in the field isn’t working anywhere else. Ian’s always resisted all kinds of tied down, but having no home—and no one to come home to—is slowly eating him up inside. Over time, Ian has grudgingly accepted that going anywhere without his partner simply doesn’t work. Now Miro just has to convince him that getting tangled up in heartstrings isn’t being tied down at all.

5. Riley Hart. Yes, please.

[image error] [image error] Oliver Hayes wears his heart on his sleeve, and his friends never let him forget it. Every Friday night spent at Wild Side, their favorite West Hollywood bar, Oliver’s lack of hookups becomes the hot topic. It’s not that he doesn’t want a good time. He just wants it to mean something, which is a lofty goal when he’s still pining after his childhood crush, Matt, who left ten years ago to start a new life in New York City.

Matt Daniels has always felt most at home seated at a piano. He might not have entirely fit in with his family and friends, but he was always able to find himself in music. Or at least he did before he gave up his dream a lifetime ago. Now, he has a successful modeling career and should be enjoying every second of it. Yet nothing feels right, and Matt fears he’s losing himself.

Just when Oliver decides to get over Matt for good, Matt waltzes back into LA. As Matt struggles to understand what he’s missing in his seemingly perfect life, he falls right back into leaning on Oliver for support. Things aren’t what they used to be between them, though. They tumble into bed together, and it’s hard not to continue ending up there. For the first time in years, Matt’s inspired to compose again, reigniting a spark he thought long extinguished.

But as always, Oliver can’t keep his heart in check, and soon Matt realizes he’s gone for Oliver too. The biggest question is, can he fully give himself to someone if he still hasn’t figured out how to love himself?

6. Sarena Bowen and Elle Kennedy. Mmmmm….

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They don’t play for the same team. Or do they?

Jamie Canning has never been able to figure out how he lost his closest friend. Four years ago, his tattooed, wise-cracking, rule-breaking roommate cut him off without an explanation. So what if things got a little weird on the last night of hockey camp the summer they were eighteen? It was just a little drunken foolishness. Nobody died.

Ryan Wesley’s biggest regret is coaxing his very straight friend into a bet that pushed the boundaries of their relationship. Now, with their college teams set to face off at the national championship, he’ll finally get a chance to apologize. But all it takes is one look at his longtime crush, and the ache is stronger than ever.

Jamie has waited a long time for answers, but walks away with only more questions-

can one night of sex ruin a friendship? If not, how about six more weeks of it? When Wesley turns up to coach alongside Jamie for one more hot summer at camp, Jamie has a few things to discover about his old friend…and a big one to learn about himself.

~~~~~

In no way is this the definitive list.  But it’s a start! As usual, I thought it would be easy to identify. Not so. Many great authors who write in the M/M genre exist. Other authors whose names were raised by our “non-scientific but can-totally-be-trusted” group are listed below. Many of these authors write both M/F and M/M, are best-sellers and have won awards. But they most definitely won reader’s hearts as their names were raised as “must-read.”

Alanea Alder

Kris Michaels

Lucy Lennox

JJ Harper

Annabeth Albert

Felice Stevens

Seth King

Golden Czermak

Ella Frank

Nicole Edwards

Amy Lane

Rhys Ford

TJ Klune

Damon Suede

Aimee Nicole Walker

AE Via

Amber Kell

Cardeno C.

Carol Lynne

Kele Moon

Annabella Michaels

Faith Gibson

Aria Grace

Devon McCormack

Samantha A. Cole

Lucy Lennox

Let us know what you think. Do you have a favorite M/M book we should know about? Hit us up in the comments so we all may grow our TBR mountains.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elizabeth SaFleur writes contemporary erotic romance and she’s not afraid to get graphic about it  — “it” being the sex, the BDSM or Washington, DC society, which she regularly features in her series, the Elite Doms of Washington. Join her Sexy, Saucy, Sometimes Naughty exclusive reader’s group or follow her on Bookbub and Amazon.

Check out her latest book, LUCKY, where our heroine learns

when a man tell you who he is, believe him.

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Blown Up & Ice Bound: Q & A with Male Romance Author C.M.Moore

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Click to buy…

by Madeline Iva

MADELINE IVA: You’re really one-half of a whole.  Who’s your other half?
 
C.M. MOORE: I do rely on my wife Monica. She is my editor, my muse, my battle buddy, and my best friend. She tells me when something isn’t “sexy” and she is my brain when my Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) gets the better of me. I will be the first to say that without her none of my books would be possible.
 
MADELINE IVA: You’re a former soldier, right? Tell us about that — how long were you soldiering? Where were you stationed? And you saw action — what happened? I get the feeling you were blown up.
 

C.M. MOORE: Yes, I am. I joined the military just out of high school. I spent my first seven years as a 13 Foxtrot, Fire Support Specialist. An FO’s (forward observer) job is to aim indirect fire and air support. I deployed twice under that occupation. After my second tour, in Iraq, I decided to reclass my career choice. I went with the craziest job imaginable. I joined the ranks of 12 Bravos, the Combat Engineers.       When I was pitched the idea of engineer work I was told: “You will breach obstacles by the use of explosive force”. That sounded awesome! What they didn’t tell me was I wouldn’t be placing explosive, but finding what is hidden along the road. Yuck. My first two tours were a cake walk, but the third one damn near killed me, ten times. I was the lead security gun truck commander. I have been mortared, shot at, and blown up nine times. The ninth I.E.D. (improvise explosive device) awarded me the Purple Heart. I retired from my military career not long after. I sustained a compressed spine, six bulging discs, left shoulder and right knee are shot, and a traumatic brain injury. Which all lead to my writing career.

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Connor Moore

 

MADELINE IVA: How’d a nice guy like you come to hang out with a bunch of romance women like us?
 
C.M. MOORE: My wife loves to read. We both own a little bookstore in the middle of nowhere Minnesota. I’m a fan of authors like Robert Ludlum, and their stories of espionage. I have fancied the idea of writing my own series under the same genre. Monica came to me one day and told me she ran out of books to read. Seriously? We own a bookstore.  How do you run out of things to read for fun? With this new found information I told my wife, Monica, I wanted to write a story. When I was about page two into it, my wife pitched to me adding a love story. She pulled on my heart strings to accommodate her. Surprisingly, I had a great time merging the two stories. I haven’t looked back ever since. 
 
MADELINE IVA: Your first book 1:05 a.m. is a (Fill in the blank here.) Hint: I’m looking for a genre…
 
C.M. MOORE: 1:05 a.m. is a futuristic romance. Set after the fall of the U.S. government and the dawn of a new ice era. 


 

MADELINE IVA: What’s the heat level of 1:05 a.m.?
 
C.M. MOORE: I would say a 3.5 out of a 5. It does have some hot sex, but it has some story too.


In a dystopian future, an assassin must choose to fulfill a final contract or keep the love of her life alive.
Yearning for a normal life, assassin Karmen-Marie has had enough of of the post-apocalyptic world. Forced to take one last assassin’s job, Karma sets out across the frozen landscape of Earth.
Rea MacBain’s job is to ensure the safety of Earth’s precious few water purification plants. He believes his abusive past must stay buried under the snow that encases his domain.
Ice cold assassin’s blood drives the woman sent to kill him, yet it ignites the fire which thaws Rea’s heart.



MADELINE IVA: What I really really really really want to ask is this: So many women’s jaws fall open when it comes to military men in romances.  Are we doing something really screwed up when we objectify military men as sex objects?
 
C.M. MOORE: I don’t have a problem with romance novels objectifying and glamorizing men in uniform… what I don’t like is when the story doesn’t properly review what happens to those men after they come home.
 
No one is the same after they return from a deployment and as long as a writer shows a character’s real struggle and their growth, I’m happy to see them writing about the men (or women) who fight for our country. 
 
Look, in the end, I understand that this is a fantasy… that’s okay and what’s more, it’s fun. Read for fun! Read hot sexy firefighters, and cops, and soldiers with muscles, who can bench press you into the bed. (For the record, I used to be able to do that. You can ask Monica if you don’t believe me.)
 
MADELINE IVA: Then what the hell? Why aren’t you writing military romances, Connor?
 
C.M. MOORE: I find writing contemporary romances not as entertaining for me as writing the future in the way I envision it. However, there is a definite military feel in my books that does come from my background. I hope no one holds that against me. ; >
 
MADELINE IVA: And Monica! We can’t forget Monica. She was a soldier too — can you answer #2 for her as well?
 
C.M. MOORE: Monica wants to answer that for herself, so… perspective change. 
 
MONICA: I joined the service after high school. I was in the service for eight years, most of that time as a 38A (Civil Affairs Specialist). I deployed to Afganistan as a Civil Affairs Specialist. CA was an interesting job. I had an officer who liked to say that they hand out “hugs and lollipops” to foreign countries to get them to like the United States a little better. I did things like help build wells, taught English classes at an orphanage, and helped build schools and hospitals.

MADELINE IVA: So, like, did you guys meet in uniform? If you DID then you know I’m totally expecting you to twist/distort the story, however, necessary to make it — pick one: romantic/sweet/hot/fraught with romantic tension.
 
C.M. MOORE: Monica and I did not meet in uniform. I am sorry to disappoint! Actually, as the story goes, It was my senior year of high school and I had a friend named John who claimed he had met this “hot” girl in the next town over and was dating her. I didn’t believe him, so one night I drove to said “hot” girl’s house and knocked. Monica appeared and I was tongue tied. She was about to slam the door in my face, but she recognized another friend (Richard)  who’d tagged along. I told her why I was there (to prove she didn’t exist) and she didn’t take that too well. So to help my poor pounding heart and sweat soaked shirt, I invited her to a party at my house. 
 
At the party (I threw together), I thought I would show off and I challenged a tiny elf-sized woman to a drinking game. What I didn’t know at the time was she wasn’t a light weight. I could bearly keep up with her and before long I was blitzed. While stumbling around I noticed that Monica was leaving with Rich so I thought I would ride along and make my move. I wanted to sing her sonnets and maybe pet her hair while I fed her grapes, but honestly, I could bearly sit up straight. 
 
I had claimed a seat next to her in the backseat of Rich’s car when my friend made a vicious u-turn at the end of the street. My hand flew to my mouth to stop the alcohol that had decided to exit my stomach, but it was no use. I threw up all over Monica, part of the backseat, and finally, I got the door open and colored the pavement.
 
So yeah, after I vomited all over Monica she became mine forever! We’ve been together 17 years and married for fifteen. Monica is strong, smart, kind, and most of all… forgiving. Any woman you can throw up and stays with you is a keeper.
 
MADELINE IVA: Let’s go back to talking about your experiences in the army when it comes to gender. What’s the proportion of men to women in the units you served in?
 
C.M. MOORE: I served mostly in male-dominated units. Only a few headquarter units I was assigned to had females. Monica was in more blended units.
 
MADELINE IVA: How does having women around affect things–if you have any insight into that?
 
C.M. MOORE: In my experience, I know the female perspective is needed on and off the battlefield. Women soldiers bring certain aspects to the table that men don’t think about. For example, compassion. Compassion for the civilians caught in a war-stricken country. 
 
MADELINE IVA: How does being in the middle of soldiering affect the way men think of women?
 
C.M. MOORE: Speaking for just myself, and what I saw, I know that the men had no problem if the female pulled her own weight in her duties. I also noticed women who pushed and sustained themselves to the male standards were held in higher regard.
 
MADELINE IVA: What do we need to know about the whole world building in your novel — it’s post-apocalyptic.  So what are the fundamental big issue they face? Water? Cold?
 
C.M. MOORE: A meteor has struck the pacific, causing massive climate change. Earth begins another ice era. After the U.S. lost the Oil Wars, the remnants of the population are either migrating to the Equator for warmth or burrowing deeper into the Earth’s crust. However, the cold brings its own issues. Issues that create a new rare precious commodity. 
 
MADELINE IVA: Why are the titles certain times of the day?


 
C.M. MOORE: The title starts with Karma and her story in 1:05 A.M. She is tasked with completing her mission by 1:05 A.M. I didn’t want the cover to blend in with all the hot half naked dudes on the cover. Plus, I am a little jealous of their abs.
 
MADELINE IVA: You know I have to ask the next question—so what comes after 1:05 A.M.? 1:10A.M.? ; >


 

C.M. MOORE:  My fans fell in love with a secondary character nicknamed Gears. So, naturally,  Gears got his own Novella. It’s called “Grinding My Gears, An Off the Rails Ice Era Chronicle “. That will be released next month. It will be free for my newsletter subscribers. You can sign up at www.authorcmmoore.com. 

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Click and subscribe to C.M. Moore’s newsletter, and get this free story…

 
In August/September 2:05 A.M. will be released. We will follow Gears’ daughter on her own romance adventure.  


 
MADELINE IVA: Thanks so much for being with us today, Connor! Ladies (and gents?) if you want more of Connor, you can find him cracking wise on facebook here:
https://www.facebook.com/co.mo.moore


 
Madeline Iva writes fantasy and paranormal romance.  Her fantasy romance, WICKED APPRENTICE, featuring a magic geek heroine, is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and through iTunes.  Sign up for Madeline Iva news & give aways.

A Cop, a Kleptomaniac, and a New Romantic Suspense!

NEW RELEASE!
After becoming the victim of a break-in, a kleptomaniac seeks the help of the cop and single dad whose heart she broke in the past…

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Kim Xavier steals things. She can’t help it. Recovering from her shoplifting addiction has never been easy, but she’s giving it a shot. When she comes home to a ransacked apartment, Kim knows she’s finally taken the wrong thing from the wrong person. And she can’t tell the police–especially not the cop whose heart she broke months ago.

Scott Culpepper wants Kim Xavier. He can’t help it. Ever since he met the smart-mouthed woman while on patrol in New Haven, he hasn’t been able to get her or her red lips out of his mind. Unfortunately, she’s also got a police record, and the single dad has learned the hard way not to get involved with unpredictable women.

But when Kim is threatened by someone selling information used to harass women online, Scott steps up to keep her safe–even if it means spending more time with her than he should. The two work to unravel the case, which leads them from the dirty underbelly of the Ivy League to posh preschool parties to a drug dealer who can quote Kerouac. Though the biggest danger may be Kim stealing the very thing Scott can’t afford to lose: his heart.

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Check it out now!
Amazon

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iBooks

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Gentlemen Prefer Marriage: Emmanuelle de Maupassant and the Bonds of Matrimony

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It’s a big step. And not for everybody.

By Alexa Day

The historical romance thrives on change. Evolution keeps it fresh as it provides all that candy historical fans love so much. The fabulous details, the excitement of past events, even those exotic speech patterns — it’s all wonderful. But if the historical romance weren’t making subtle changes to keep up with its readers, it might lose some of that popularity.

Consider the historical’s focus on marriage. Once upon a time, the historical hero was all about avoiding marriage. While he tried to keep his freedom, he found himself ensnared by the meek heroine, enchanted by the calculating miss, or surrendering to some constellation of circumstances leading him to the altar before he’s ready. Marriage ultimately suits him quite well, but the fun part is watching him learn that for himself.

Emmanuelle de Maupassant sets this convention on its ear in two of her stories, where the heroines spend most of the action taking a pass on marriage. Commitment doesn’t agree with them, and they’d do any modern lady proud with their insistence on independence.

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A bachelorette party at *this* club? Your friends would never stop talking. Click to buy.

I mentioned The Gentlemen’s Club before, a while back, when I was talking about what a woman-owned sex club ought to look like. The heroine, Maud, is in charge of her male clientele’s erotic experience. Her shows and tableaux are designed to arouse them and to free women to perform. They’re in control of the male gaze. Men look where Maud tells them to look. Remember that line from My Big Fat Greek Wedding? “The man is the head, but the woman is the neck,” the heroine’s mother explains, “and she can turn the head any way she wants.”

Maud is the neck. And she knows it.

After a night of erotic humiliation, Lord Macaulay can’t forget Maud, and he’s obsessed with the idea of possessing her. First, he’s determined to subject her to the same erotic treatment, but before long, he turns to a remedy that’s always available to her. He decides he wants to marry her.

Maud’s work comes with any number of people who are interested in keeping her to themselves, but she has no real reason to get married. Her entire life lies outside Victorian convention. She has nothing to gain from marriage and a great deal to lose. She’d have to pass on her abundance of sex partners, and she knows that sooner or later, she’d have to let go of her life’s work.

Marriage? No thanks.

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Being grounded has never been quite like this. Click and get your copy for free!

Highland Pursuits, Emmanuelle’s newest release, moves forward in time to 1928. The heroine, Ophelia, has declined an advantage marriage proposal, and her mother sends her to Scotland as punishment.

I know. I mean, I’m not a parent. But seriously, how is that a punishment?

Once in Scotland, at her grandmother’s castle, Ophelia takes in the wisdom of her elders, who enjoyed a variety of suitors before settling down into marriage with equals. They were able to marry happily because life experience taught them about themselves. Before long, Ophelia gradually surrenders her innocence to several other guests at the family estate. It’s not the predictable fuck-fest; she finds frustration, heartbreak, and jealousy alongside pleasure and excitement. But ultimately, she arrives at a conclusion that would displease her mother a great deal.

“I’m trying on versions of myself, she concluded, to see how they fit. Aren’t I doing just as a planned, exploring what it means to be a woman, without becoming a dreary wife?”

She’s got a castle, the opportunity to meet all sorts of men, and a hot, bearded widower who lives on the estate. There’s no reason to marry. At least not soon.

In another twist, the men of both stories seem attached to the notion of marriage. Lord Macaulay initially wants to marry Maud so that he can have her to himself — it’s the way marriage has worked for men like him since time immemorial. But as he guides his niece through the courtship dance, he eventually discovers that the way to keep Maud is to allow her to remain free. When they do come together, he can only promise to provide her with the opportunity to be her truest self, and Maud can’t resist the chance to expand her already broad horizons through an alliance with her favorite suitor.

In Highland Pursuits, Hamish believes in marriage for love, especially since he’s done it once already. He’s slow to open his heart again, and he’s no stranger to heartbreak. But he’ll only enter a relationship with Ophelia if it’s based on affection. A one-time dalliance is one thing for Hamish, but he won’t consider a true coupling without love.

I tend to be a cynic during the season of matrimony. Maybe I’ve attended one too many failed bachelorette parties. But Emmanuelle’s work is a balm to the hard-hearted, a glimpse at what marriage might be — and at how splendid life might be without it.

Highland Pursuits is free right now! Head on over right now and start your vacation in the wilds of Scotland.

And follow Lady Smut.

Are You Feeling Lucky?

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The Latest in D.C. Discipline Has Arrived
~~~ COVER REVEAL ~~~ PRE-ORDER ~~~
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Discounted price of $2.99 until release date of
June 15, 2017!

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Sexy Saturday Round Up

[image error]Say goodbye to spring–say hello to summer! The weather is heating up but Lady Smut is already full of sexy hot goodness.  Here’s more titillating news about love, sex, romance, & gender from your Lady Smut gal-pals.

From Madeline:

SUMMER IS HERE! TIME FOR SEX ON THE BEACH. And no, we’re not talking about the drink.

Two Nerdy History Girls discuss the past time of Nude Male Races in the 1800’s.

Rectifying fashion injustice: The Bro-Romper.  Yup.

Advice to men (well, everyone) on how to support women who run for office/aim for promotion.

Hate those sexual onsies? (Real life examples I’ve seen: Ladies, I have arrived. I don’t always drink milk, but when I do I prefer Dos Boobies. Stud muffin. I love boobies.) Here are some feminist onsies for your wee knee biter.

She put him in a dress & then they fell in love.

Throw down that tiara and kiss a commoner! Japanese princess gives up her crown to marry average joe.

The emancipation of the MILF.

The Master of None “First Date” episode made me glad I’m not on Tinder

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

I’m writing this post while binge watching Season 2 of Master of None, the Netflix comedy created (and often written and directed) by and starring Aziz Ansari as actor and newly single Dev Shah.

Here’s the trailer for Season 2:

It took me a little while to warm up to the show; I started Season 1 soon after it debuted, but didn’t get far. But over the last week I’ve been making my way through Season 1, then went right into Season 2.

There have been moments of recognition, but episode four of the new season, titled “First Date,” was one that made me grateful that I’m not using dating apps. I almost wrote, “grateful that I’m not single,” but that’s not totally accurate. While I’m happy to be in a five-year long-term relationship, even back when I was single, I could barely handle online dating, let alone dating apps.

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I think the reason they never did the trick is that, unlike the woman Dev goes out with who, mid-date, starts using the app where they met, Love at First Sight, because she’s both just not that into him and truly enjoys swiping, I was never “into dating,” I was into meeting someone I could connect with. I hated the awkwardness of first dates, the way they could very easily feel like job interviews in more casual settings.

Back in 2010, I went on what’s still my worst date ever, in which a guy seemed to be deliberately trying to make our date agonizing. The thing is, on a dating site or app, it’s relatively easy to make yourself seem more interesting than you are in real life. The converse, for me, was also true: the few times I did using dating sites, I always felt torn between being honest about who I am and trying to upsell myself. If I painted too rosy a picture, I worried I wouldn’t be able to live up to the hype. But when would the right time have been to tell someone I was a hoarder who couldn’t open the door to her apartment without slamming her body weight against it? That’s just not something that would ever work in the context of an “about me” blurb.

But Tinder, which I’ve only observed on a friend’s phone, seems to take all the pressure of summarizing yourself and presenting a pretty image to a whole new level. I imagine that if I were on it, I would also become obsessed with not the quality of my matches, but the quantity. My mood would swoop up or down depending on how popular I found myself with the people there. And while there are exceptions, I have trouble imagining I’d have met someone who I could actually settle down with via a dating app.

I’ve always preferred to meet people I date more organically, either through a shared activity (like playing Boggle or trivia, both of which have yielded me dates), via a mutual friend or simply by chance. As my sex column and erotica writing career developed, I also faced a clash between my public, online persona and the “real me.” That’s not to say that I wasn’t myself in my writing—I always was (and am), to a fault—but it’s awkward when someone can Google you and find out you like giving blowjobs or have posed nude or an endless stream of other details I’ve shared with the world. There is a tension between the me who sits around in sweats and binges TV shows, who’s super dorky and romantic and cries easily, and the more readily available version that comes up via Google. They’re all parts of me, but ones that are hard to convey in an hour or two, especially when there’s all the pressure of a first date.

I know there are some people who simply enjoy the act of dating, of going out and meeting multiple people, no matter the outcome. But I was never one of them. I was more about the destination than the journey. That’s not to say I didn’t like when a date went perfectly, the kind where I lost track of time and wound up getting home in the wee hours when I’d planned to be back early. But watching Dev go on so many dates on Master of None, I didn’t feel a shred of envy. I didn’t think I was missing out on anything, and while I don’t plan to ever be single again, if that should ever happen, I won’t be using technology to help me bond with anyone. I’ll fumble through the madness that is dating all by myself. At least I don’t have a Tinder worst date story, right?

What do you think? Are dating apps a modern blessing or curse? Leave a comment and let us know!

——————————————————————————————————-

Rachel Kramer Bussel (rachelkramerbussel.com) has edited over 60 anthologies, including Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 1 and 2, Come Again: Sex Toy Erotica, Begging for It, Fast Girls, The Big Book of Orgasms and more. She writes widely about sex, dating, books and pop culture and teaches erotica writing classes around the country and online. Follow her @raquelita on Twitter and find out more about her classes and consulting at eroticawriting101.com.

Wild Excerpt for Wild Week

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

Hope all you readers have been enjoying Wild Week here at Lady Smut. Whether it’s Alexa Day’s Praise of the Wild Man or Elizabeth Shore hunting for ethical porn, it’s a wild time day by day to celebrate of the nomination of my novel, Wild on the Rocks, for InD’Tale’s Magazine‘s prestigious RONE award in the Suspense/Thriller: Short category. Voting goes all week, and I’d love it if you’d head on over and show some support for Wild on the Rocks, which is now on sale for $.99 exclusively from Amazon!

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Vote today!

Wanna know what you’re getting into? Keep reading to see how, a year after their divorce, Jasper and Quinn find each other again in the most unlikely of places. Of all the joints in the world…

Enjoy this excerpt from Wild on the Rocks!

 

 

Casa Blanca, Barefoot Bay, Florida.

“Toldja. Beaches, babes, and booze. The unholy trifecta. Praise sweet baby Jesus.”

Twist’s voice sounded through Jasper’s ear pierce as he scanned the patio area where the rehearsal dinner

cocktail hour was under full swing.

He had to admit that, for once, Twist had got it right.

The Thornquist wedding—or the Thorny Wedding as the security team had taken to calling it—was as

opulent as advertised. Jasper stopped trying to count the number of recognizable faces from notable Washington

families after the first hour. Not that he knew a lot of them on sight. Twist had a better take on the Who’s Who,

given he came from some seriously old money, a secret he kept close and actively hid from their team.

“There’s definitely enough booze,” Jasper agreed. “We’ll be fishing women in formal wear out of the

pool before the bride gets down the aisle.”

“Ah, the wet gown contests. Nothin’ like a dirty debutante.” He sighed with such exaggeration, Jasper

fancied he felt an actual breeze. “Sometimes, at night, I can still hear the screams…of pleasure.”

He absolutely would not smile at Twist’s ridiculousness. “We’ve been here twenty-four hours and your

degenerate side is already at full throttle.”

“Brother, it’s my best side.”

“How ’bout we try to be professionals for a while. Did you tag the congressman’s daughter?”

“Your four o’clock. She’s on her third drink and laughing with the bartender.”

“Spectacular. That’s what we need: a horny bartender.”

“The bartender is a woman, and if she’s horny for the congressman’s daughter, then I’m moving in for a

ringside seat. Shee-it, she is hawt.”

At the mention of a female bartender, Jasper’s head instantly filled with the image of Quinn, her whole

body shaking with laughter at something stupid he’d said before she leaned her elbows on the bar to get closer to

him as if even the air between them was too much distance to bear.

Until she’d run out on him six months later while he was OUTCONUS and put all the distance of the

world between them for good.

Annoyed, he shook off the memory like he longed to shake off the woman. That’s why he was here, right?

To exorcise the taste and feel and haunting memories of his wife on a willing woman.

Ex-wife.

A short-term, holiday affair was the perfect way to end the self-enforced abstinence he’d endured since

his divorce. Jasper was normally careful who he fucked, his career and his family history enough that he didn’t

treat sex as casual even when having casual sex. The one time he’d taken a chance on a wild lover, she’d

quickly become his wife and soon after broken his heart but good.

This temporary fantasy away from his shattered life was the perfect place to learn from his mistakes. And

make a few new, short-term ones.

“Was it ‘hot’ or ‘horny’ where we lost you, Queen?”

Twist’s voice held more than a thread of humor in it. If he made one comment over coms about Jasper

being hard up, best friend or not, he was going to kill him.

“Sit rep,” he snapped.

“You’re not CO on this op,” Twist reminded him with no small amount of glee. “Man, you should see this

bartender.”

Jasper rolled his eyes behind his aviator shades. “We’re on a job, Twist. Not on vacation or the prowl.”

“We’re on a job on vacation, Queen. And I take my wingman duties seriously for both. Relax. You can

count on me to Set. You. Up.”

“I’ll relax when you stop yapping in my ear while I’m getting paid to look after people who could buy or

sell small countries with their pocket change.”

“You better have more than change in your pocket, brother. Not kidding, Queen. You need to come over

here and check her out. She is smokin’ hot.”

“Happy as I am to hear you appreciate the staff, maybe you could spare the rest of us the play by play,

Sisti.”

Luke McBain’s terse voice made Jasper grimace. Thanks to Twist, he was getting chastised over coms.

Soon as they were off duty, he was gonna kick Twist’s ass.

“I could do for a little play by play,” one of the other guards admitted. “These political fuckers are boring

as hell.”

“These political fuckers are our well-paying clients,” McBain reminded everyone. “Try not to disrespect

them to their faces.” A series of “yes, sirs” flooded the com line. “Rehearsal’s over. We’re headed back to the

resort.”

Along with five of his guys, McBain was down on the beach guarding the principals—bride, groom,

attendants, and parents—while the rest of them babysat everyone not in the wedding party. That McBain’s wife

and her wedding planning partners were on the beach probably had a lot to do with his hands on approach at that

vector. “Queen, report.”

“Guests are bugging out from the patio, moving into the dining room. Got ten lingering.”

“Hustle them along. I want everyone under roof in five. Rocco, Johnny, and Marlowe, you three are in

Junonia’s main room covering the dinner. It’s a sit down, so stay out of the way, but remain visible. The rest of

you patrol the perimeter. Sisti, meet up with Queen on the patio. The two of you take position inside the

restaurant at the bar.”

“Sure you want Twist close to the hot bartender?” Jasper asked.

“I’ve seen the woman. If he hits on her, I’ll want a ringside seat. I could use a good laugh today.”

Jasper wasn’t the only man chuckling over the channel at that one.

He moved from his position at the back corner of the patio from which he could see all the way down to

the beach. Table by table, he gently urged people into the restaurant proper, waiting as the women gathered the

whatnot women everywhere seemed to cart around with them no matter the occasion. His go bag had less to it

than some of these women’s purses.

He felt Twist at his six as he helped an octogenarian to her feet and transferred her surprisingly strong

grip to the arm of a waiter. The old dame patted his ass before shuffling off.

“Please tell me you’re not that hard up,” Twist begged, and Jasper heard him in stereo; at his back and

again through the coms.

Damn it.

“Fuck off,” he muttered.

“Oh ho!” Twist chortled with an elbow to Jasper’s gut. “Queen’s losing his cool! Is the world ending?!”

“Keep it up and yours can be.”

Twist snorted, and Jasper would’ve been happier to see his friend up to his old tricks if only he wasn’t

the target.

“I can do you better than a biddy,” Twist promised.

“For the love of my sanity, don’t help me.”

“Gotta look out for my boy.”

“Try doing that by not discussing my sex life on open coms.”

“What sex life? You haven’t gotten laid in months.”

“You know wingman and stalker mean two different things, right?”

“Rumor has it, you’ve got the bluest balls on the team for a man without a pregnant wife or girlfriend. The

boys have bets on how long it’ll take you to nail someone this weekend.”

“I’ll take that action,” Ryan, on the perimeter, piped in.

“Me too,” added Rocco from inside the restaurant.

“Done,” Twist confirmed. “We’ll settle up after the dinner.”

“I’m not hitting on the bartender,” Jasper vowed. “Leave me out of this little clique.”

Twist slapped a consoling hand on Jasper’s shoulder. “Ladies like it when you know how to find that

part.”

Laughter rang on the coms again while Jasper shook his head. “I can’t believe this shit,” he muttered.

“Believe it. Consider Operation King Me underway.”

Jasper’s gaze hit on McBain, who waited for them at the patio door to the restaurant. “Shut it,” he ordered

even though he knew McBain already heard Twist’s nonsense in his ear.

“When Nick gave me your names, I had no idea we’d be getting security and a show,” McBain gibed.

Jasper bit back a grimace. McBain eyed Twist with a peculiar gleam that made Jasper uneasy. “You know, don’t

you?”

That nagging sense of trouble that had been prodding the base of Jasper’s skull all day finally burst.

“What did you do?”

But Twist looked equally confused. “Swear Roy, I have no idea what he’s on about.”

Boss or not, Jasper raised a brow at McBain in silent demand. He jerked his head in a “follow me”

motion and led the way from the patio into the restaurant’s bar.

“I thought it was coincidence or a joke. But my guys only finalized her background check this morning.”

Her? Alarm snaked up Jasper’s spine. Oh, hell no.

“They gave me the final report this morning,” McBain continued. “Not hard to see you share the same last

name.” He gestured toward the bar where a woman worked to fill cocktail orders. “Don’t suppose she’s your

cousin?”

Jasper watched her move, the dance of her motions unchanged from a year before, a sinuous weave that

only hinted at the flexibility she’d brought to their bed. He’d told her once he’d never seen anyone make pouring

a glass of wine look so sexy.

This was still true.

Her dark-brown hair hung past her shoulders now to the middle of her back, long layers that fell forward

to brush her sharp cheekbone when she bent over the bar to serve a drink. He knew how those strands felt when

gripped in his hands, or scraping down his belly as her wide, lush mouth mapped its way down his body to her

target.

She wore the standard server’s uniform of white top and black bottoms, but her collared, tuxedo shirt was

fitted to her impressive rack, emphasized by the two buttons she left undone to show the tempting gulley in her

cleavage. The shirt nipped in at her waist and what little of her black trousers he could see clung to her hips. A

long pearl necklace was twisted into a knot to dangle down her front and Jasper knew, he knew, she’d be

wearing her motorcycle boots, even to this kind of wedding. When she stretched for a bottle off the top shelf, the

banner of skin left bare at her midriff came into view and Jasper proceeded to completely lose his shit.

“You already know she’s not my cousin,” he snarled while rage flooded his body and instant arousal made

him hard as a spike. “She’s my wife.”

* * *

Nettie’s tray clattered onto the bar. “Holy shit,” she gasped, eyes fixed on the restaurant’s entrance. “Is it

Christmas already?”

Quinn glanced over her shoulder as a trio of men crossed the threshold. The last rays of sun shined

through the door behind them, blinding her and making the men little more than shadows. Large shadows with

broad shoulders.

Hoo. Shah.

She shielded her eyes and turned back to the blender. “We should send God a fruit basket.”

“Full of gold.” Nettie nodded toward the man on the end. “That’s Luke McBain. He does the resort’s

security. Very married to one of the wedding planners.”

“So looky, but no touchy.”

Nettie grinned. “Exactly.”

Quinn checked the men out again from the corner of her eye. All three wore black collared shirts tucked

into belted black trousers and topped with aviator glasses they removed almost simultaneously as they came

fully into the bar and approached the women. As classic a uniform for their job as her black and white get-up

was for hers. Standing nearly at the same six-foot plus heights—though the one on the opposite end from McBain

was an inch or two shorter—they were all armed, two with weapons in hip holsters while the guy in the center

sported a shoulder rig.

To Quinn’s mind, shoulder rigs were the sexy, Mad Men version of gun holsters. In a good way. Intensely

masculine but minus the infuriating sexism. So her eyes lingered on that man, skimming over his wide, muscular

chest framed within the holster’s leather strips while she absently noted he alone of the three had his sleeves

rolled up to the elbow. His thick throat rippled as she watched and sharp hunger spiked deep in Quinn’s belly,

the likes of which she hadn’t felt in more than a year. What looked like two days’ worth of scruff covered his

scarred chin, surrounding lips she’d bet were full and a shy short of too fleshy when not drawn into their current

tight line. Coasting past raised cheek bones, the hair on the back of Quinn’s neck lifted and her nipples

contracted into painful points as her avaricious gaze met eyes she already knew were a stunning golden hazel

when not darkened with swelling rage that made his pupil expand until the color was a mere glowing rim.

“Can you imagine having that in your bed every night?” Nettie said.

“I can, actually.” Quinn replied on little more than an exhale. The bottle of wine in her hands trembled.

She set it down on the bar with extreme care and deliberately laid her hands on either side of it before looking

up into the breathtaking, hard-set face of her husband.

Ex-husband.

“Fuck, Roy, but you can pick ’em,” the third man said as he settled onto a stool, seemingly oblivious to the

heaving tension.

Quinn ignored him. She knew better than to look away from the seething powder keg that was Jasper.

“You look like a recruitment poster for Badasses ’R Us.”

He stepped toward the bar as though seconds from yanking her over it. “You look like you’re on your way

to try out for the Coyote Ugly sequel.”

His friend split a grin between them. “Okay, now I believe she’s your wife.”

“Ex-wife,” Quinn and Jasper snapped simultaneously, which made the man crack up.

“Cut it out, Twist,” Jasper growled.

This was Twist? She risked taking her eyes off Jasper, fascinated to finally meet his closest friend, though

it escaped her why it could possibly mattered after all this time.

Twist’s grin didn’t falter, but it didn’t reach his eyes, either, and the frank animosity there scorched her

skin.

Okay by her. Not like she was trying to make friends.

“Luke McBain.” The other man introduced himself with a warm smile. She tore her eyes from Twist and

reflexively accepted his proffered hand.

“Quinn McQueen,” she replied without thinking and immediately regretted it when Jasper’s entire torso

recoiled.

The tailored shirt rippled over his muscled chest, mesmerizing Quinn so that Jasper startled her when he

leaned those bare, cut forearms on the bar and got right back in her space.

Holy crap, arm porn. She was in no way prepared for her ex-husband’s delectable arm porn.

He glared at her hand still caught in McBain’s until she tugged it free. “Come again?” The sibilant

whisper coasted over her skin. Quinn caught her breath.

Even though his arrival right now, right here, and all that might mean scared the holy shit outta her, even

after all the bone-crushing, lonely days and weeks she’d spent without him, even now, that deep rumble of his

voice raised goose bumps on her arms.

“Jasp,” she whispered with absolutely no idea what to say beyond that or how to justify being Quinn

McQueen again without telling him that simply having his name was a comfort when she felt more lost than ever

before in her life.

His eyes flared with heat. They were close enough now for Quinn to see that ribbon of green gold around

his pupil glow bright. She locked her knees and clutched her hands together beneath the edge of the bar to keep

from grabbing him.

“You’re using my name again? Since when?”

“About a week ago,” she admitted, her voice small.

“For hell’s sake, why?”

Because I’m on the run from the Russian mob and the only place I’ve ever felt safe was with you.

Yeah, like either of them was prepared to detonate that cans of worms.

She forced herself to shrug. “I like the cadence.”

His hands spread wide on the wood. She half expected him to vault right over the bar. “You like the

cadence?” he hollered back, practically in her face.

She huffed out a breath. “It’s not like I expected you to find out about it! What are you doing here

anyway?”

He tossed an incredulous glance at McBain as though the answer were obvious. And to be fair, it kinda

was. “Searching for buried treasure.”

Despite his dry tone, Quinn’s eyes went wide at the thought of such an adventure. “Really?” she breathed.

“Jesus, no. I’m working security for the wedding.” He shook his head with familiar exasperation. “Christ,

you look ready to abandon everything to go buy shovels and rent a trawler.”

“Ah, is this gonna be a problem?” McBain asked.

Slowly, Jasper eased back from the bar. “That remains to be seen.” Quinn could see he was already

locking himself down, pulling those pesky emotions back under his control. He’d always been able to get over

her so easily when she’d barely been able to let him walk out of a room without her.

Guess nothing had changed on that front.

“What are you doing here, Quinn?”

Irritation quickly replaced her shock, and Quinn reclaimed her attitude along with it. “Uh, working.

Obviously.”

“And I’ve no doubt my wife would appreciate it if your impending domestic didn’t upset her high-society

wedding,” McBain warned without heat.

Quinn zoned back in on the unfinished tab before her. “Shit. Nettie, I’m sorry. Let me get you sorted.”

The waitress eyed her with rampant speculation. Quinn expected she and Jasper would be tasty fresh meat

for the locals when this got out. Say in five minutes. Or however long it took Nettie to speed dial the whole

world as she knew it.

Charity would have a cow not to have had first dibs.

“Don’t worry about it, hon,” Nettie reassured her, but Quinn was already dumping the trio of cocktails.

“These margaritas have settled. Take the wine out while I whip up a fresh batch.” Running the blender

would hold off Jasper’s impending interrogation, too, maybe long enough for her to come up with an explanation

that didn’t involve the words “Russian mob” and “murder.”

Because there was no way he was letting it go that easily. Jasper McQueen did not quit until he got what

he wanted, be it answers or his ring on her finger or her ass in his San Diego condo.

“Queen, you and Twist stay here for the duration of the dinner. Rotate out with one of the boys in the

dining room on the hour,” McBain ordered. “Time for me to walk the perimeter.”

She threw a look at him over her shoulder in time to see him give Jasper a shoulder clasp of male

solidarity.

Great. He had reinforcements.

“More bartenders are coming tomorrow with the catering staff for the wedding,” she explained needlessly

after McBain exited and Nettie toddled off. “But I’m it for tonight’s dinner, so I don’t have time for a chat.”

“I’ll wait,” Jasper promised.

Of course he would. “Ho-kay then.”

Since she couldn’t budge him and had zero hope of ignoring him, Quinn focused on the work. She finished

the margaritas as Nettie returned with a new order, all the while feeling Jasper’s accusing gaze locked on her,

his eyes tracking her every move as though she’d disappear if he blinked.

God, he looked good enough to eat.

Down girl. He wasn’t hers anymore, and while she might still look, not being able to touch would

probably kill her before the Russian mob did.

* * *

“So!” Twist broke into the charged silence with his usual delicacy. “How’d you crazy kids meet?”

“Vegas,” Jasper growled. “The last time you forced me on vacation. And no, it did not ‘stay there’.”

Twist’s disbelieving gaze switched back and forth between Jasper and Quinn. “That was only a long

weekend. You’re telling me you met and got married in four days?!”

Said like that, it sounded as nutso as it was. But Jasper had taken one look at Quinn in the bar of the

Bellagio that first night and knew there was no one else for him.

Shockingly, she’d felt the same.

For a little while.

Betrayal battled with rage for dominance and beat down the fuckin’ thrill that’d ripped through his chest

when he’d first realized Quinn was within reach again. He barely stifled the urge to drag her over the bar and

handcuff them together before she could leave him again.

He reached for his frayed control and found it in tatters. That had been the case with Quinn from the start.

The moment he laid eyes on all that was her—tits and ass and so much infectious attitude, she nearly vibrated

with it—he’d been wild for her.

Christ, two minutes around her and already she was driving him mad.

And he didn’t need an audience for that madness.

“You’re not being paid to guard that bar stool,” Jasper pointedly reminded his friend.

“Jeez, bring a guy to paradise for a vacation, and all he wants to do is work.”

“Vacation starts after we’re done with this job. A job that has to pay for that vacation given we’re on

enforced leave without pay.”

“You’re on what?!” Quinn said, pausing in her drink mixing to gape at him and Twist.

Jasper stifled a wince. Quinn had a rabid curiosity streak and tended to dig in exactly where he didn’t

want her. “Leave it.”

“Whoops,” Twist taunted. “Cat’s outta the bag.”

“You can cut that shit out at any time.”

“It’s hardly top secret intel. Unlike your marriage, apparently.”

Quinn grabbed a bottle of triple sec and shot him a look. “I know, right?!”

Jasper’s head tipped back so he investigated the ceiling. “And now you’re bonding. Spectacular.”

“Hey, pal, you’re the one who went to Vegas, married a superhot chick, and hid it from everyone you

know, including me. Inquiring minds wanna know.”

“I wanna know.” Jasper heard the anonymous mutter in his ear piece and realized with embarrassed shock

that he and Twist were still on coms. Christ, they were all a bunch of gossiping women.

He ripped the mechanism out of his ear and threw it across the room where it shattered a vase so

violently, Twist jumped. “Maybe you could do me a solid and hold off until after I find out how the wife I

haven’t seen or heard from since she ran out on me a year ago winds up in Barefuck Bay the exact day we do!”

That brought Quinn’s chin up. “Ex-wife,” she reminded him, unruffled by his uncharacteristic display of

temper. “And you left me first.”

Jasper’s hands curled into fists. The gall of the woman! “I was on a mission,” he gritted out between

clenched teeth, blood on a fast boil. “For my country.”

“Yeah, well, next time have the courtesy to let your wife know you’re leaving before you disappear for six

weeks!”

He set his feet and crossed his arms and practically read her mind when she swept him up in a glance and

smirked. The Patented Jasper McQueen Stubborn Stance. “Terrorists aren’t known for giving advanced notice,

babe. We go where we’re commanded to go, and when the intel comes in or the embassy is attacked or the

hostages are taken, we go fast. And it was eight weeks, which you would know if you had bothered to stick

around!”

Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe I would have, sweetheart, if I hadn’t found out from some reluctant secretary

at the yard when I called trying to find you that you didn’t even bother to tell the Navy you got married!”

Jasper’s retort was stymied by the beep of his watch alarm marking the hour. He hit the off button and

ordered Twist, “Go relieve Rocco.”

“We don’t switch out for another thirty.”

“Find something to do,” Jasper snarled. “Somewhere else.”

Twist made a show of getting up. “Sure I shouldn’t stick around in case you suddenly need an alibi?”

“Don’t need an alibi, ’cause when I kill you, it’ll be justified.”

“You love me. You know it.” He winked at Quinn, and then scuttled back as Jasper took two menacing

steps in Twist’s direction. “Calm down, Queen, I’m going. Gotta line up a bridesmaid anyway now the hot

bartender is off the market.”

“You should go with him,” Quinn advised after Twist had cleared the doorway, shutting the wooden

panels behind him to close them off from the party.

But Jasper had just realized this was the perfect chance for him to find out what the fuck went so wrong in

their marriage that she scuttled away like a fugitive without so much as talking to him. Had he pushed too fast for

too much? Had he frightened her? Or was it merely that he’d been her next wild ride and she’d never loved him

in the first place? It’d torn him up for months, wondering what he had done that was so wrong he chased away

the love of his life.

But now she was here. Now, he would know.

He planted his feet again, hands on hips. “Not going anywhere till I get some answers.”

It helped that the rehearsal schedule worked in his favor. The rehearsal guests had finally tucked into their

entrees making a break from cocktail orders. The wait staff made similar use of the lull and efficiently prepped

tables for the next course in the other room, which meant he and Quinn would be effectively alone in the bar

until the dinner ended.

He saw the moment Quinn realized he had her trapped.

She took a step back, grabbed the ledge behind her, and leaned back against her hands. The position thrust

her chest forward and lifted the edge of her blouse even further away from her low-slung trousers.

Rock, meet hard place.

Jasper knew she was too pissed at him to be deliberately trying to arouse him, but that didn’t reduce the

size of his reaction.

“Oh yeah?” she replied and fuck him, her sneer was such priceless Quinn attitude that, in spite of himself,

he had to fight off a grin and get a tighter rein on his hard on. “Like what?”

“Like why you’re using my name again when you told me—through the lawyers, because God forbid you

should talk to me—how eager you were to shed every trapping of being married, including my name.”

She shrugged. “I changed my mind.”

That ratcheted up his simmering rage so fast, he almost put his fist into the bar.

His narrowed gaze swept her from top to bottom. Her cheeks were flushed, enough that he could see the

heated flesh even in the dim light of the bar. She dodged his eyes too, which was a very un-Quinn thing to do…

unless she was trying to hide something from him. “Cut the crap, Quinn. You in trouble?”

His jaw clenched when her face went blank. That quick, she’d shut him out. If not for her body’s reactions

—reactions he suspected she had no clue she was giving him—he’d have thought her unmoved by his return.

“It’s really none of your business.”

“Bullshit.”

That cracked her mask. Irritated, her shoulders squared off. “Where the hell do you get off?”

“Where do I get off? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, Jasper, I am not fucking kidding you,” she said with an exaggerated patience that ramped him up

even more. “We are divorced. Dee-vorced. Who and what I am is no longer your concern.”

That did it. Jasper could practically hear the tether of his control snap as he vaulted over the bar, locked

his hands on her hips, and yanked her against him.

Her hands flew up on a gasp, but he was too fast for her to push him away, and they got caught instead

against his chest. Jasper took advantage of her open mouth and swooped in.

Her taste was narcotic. His mind fogged over and the burn in his chest exploded as he drank deep.

Somewhere along the way that day, she’d indulged in a shot of rum. He licked the spicy flavor from her lips and

dived deeper.

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Caught by surprise, Quinn had no time to put up her shields, shields she’d held fast even when he’d been

deep inside her, so he owned her mouth from the start and rubbed his tongue against hers in a slow rhythm that

belied his raging lust. She always wanted to rush to the finish and never more than when they were having sex,

laser focused on her orgasm and ready to get on with it. So he would bridle that instinct and instead prime her

with slow teases of what she’d get when he had her naked and spread for him. Blissful torture that only his

brutal training to become a SEAL had allowed him to endure, but she’d always, always, made it more than

worth it.

This time, slow was going to have to wait for round two.

Or three.

He lifted his mouth to give them half a second to catch a breath, nipping once at her bottom lip because he

couldn’t stand to lose her taste even for that long. She exhaled loudly through her nose and then took the

offensive, and it was her tongue in his mouth staking claim and filling Jasper with exultant satisfaction.

My wild lady.

One of her hands slid under his pit to grab his lat while the other plunged up into his hair to hold him to

her. The movement put them chest to chest and Jasper groaned as the hard points of her nipples poked him

through their shirts. She lifted her lips, tilted her head, and kissed him again, the new angle deeper and

astoundingly more intimate.

Crushed between them, her necklace rattled against his chest until it gave up the battle and split apart,

crashing pearls to the ground like scattered hail. He felt her back-of-the-throat whimper in his dick and squeezed

the bounty of her hips. She followed his silent direction by boosting her ass up onto the ledge so he could bump

her knees wide and finally, finally, shove his hard cock into the cradle of her covered pussy after being denied it

for twelve…fucking…months.

His arms crisscrossed the small of her back, brushing the edge of those low-slung pants so that his thumbs

skirted the top of her ass. He held her tight enough to make breathing a chore, and he didn’t care, he didn’t care

one damn bit, they could suffocate from kissing and that’d be fine by him, because he knew the second he set her

free, she’d be gone.

And he would not lose her again.

And then, as suddenly as it began, the kiss was over. They stood there, clutching each other, mouths as

close as possible without connecting, breathing heavily in shared astonishment, each unwilling to be the first to

shatter the moment and bring hard reality back to crash around them.

I missed you. The words ripped through Jasper’s soul. He’d missed her mouth, her tits, her pussy, her

deep brown eyes, the scar on her chin, her sharp tongue, and her ridiculous sense of humor. He missed how she

held him and how she took him and how she got him better than anyone, even Twist. He’d hear a pun and think to

text it to her knowing she’d never met one she didn’t like, only to painfully remember he’d blocked her number.

He’d go to a bar and expect to see Quinn behind it, so he stopped going out except when called to untangled a

teammate, and that immediately put Maverick back in his mind, and fucking hell, he did not need that right now.

She’d turned his world effervescent so that it fizzed with joy and laughter, like one of her drinks,

showered him with wild beauty and then wrenched it all away to leave him feeling utterly abandoned, something

he hadn’t experienced since his adoptive parents returned him to foster care only to keep his two younger

brothers as their own.

I missed you.

But Jasper knew better than to say that to Quinn. And that hole she’d left behind that had ached in his chest

for twelve long months rang hollow with renewed loss.

“You still kiss like a wet dream,” he muttered instead.

It was a mistake. Quinn immediately went stiff with insult and tried to yank free of him, but she’d never

been a match for his strength—though always more than a match with her tongue—and he braced to get the edge

of it and not in the way he wanted.

Instead, when his arms locked her in place, a deeply wounded look seeped into her dark brown eyes, eyes

that yet shimmered from their kiss. It pierced past betrayal and abandonment to stab Jasper right in his aching

heart. “You’re a son of a bitch, you know,” she whispered.

That was truer than she could realize. His hands cupped her jaw. I missed you. “What trouble are you in,

Quinn?” he asked again. His thumbs brushed her racing pulse, coaxing her to capitulation.

Not that it made a dent in his determined wife. She blinked, erasing any hint of that rare vulnerability, and

said, “Honestly, it’s none of your business,” and Jasper was done.

Enough fucking around. His fingers dug a bit deeper into her skin, enough that her mouth popped open

with an invitation he’d bet she didn’t realize was on offer. “Everything about you is my business, and you’re

gonna stay my business until one of us stops breathing no matter what goddamn name you’re wearing when we

do.”