Authors: Lexxie Couper
Lauren rubbed at her mouth. What was he doing here? And was he alone? Surely he travelled with an entourage? A bodyguard? She’d seen enough paparazzi images of him to know there was usually a hulking great big guy shadowing him wherever he was. Where was
that
guy?
She sat back on her haunches, studying the empty playground around her. There were no massive hulking great big guys running at her, which meant
she
would have to deal with the unconscious Nick.
A tight twisting sensation stirred in the pit of her belly and she bit back a groan. She was not going to get all horny and excited at the idea of dealing with Nick. Besides, there wasn’t a hope in hell she could lift him by herself and carry him to her car, even if she wanted to. At five-foot-six and one-hundred-and-thirty pounds wringing-wet, she wasn’t exactly the lugging-unconscious-rock-stars-around type even
if
said unconscious rock star had more than once lay full-length atop her in bed, on the living room floor, the kitchen bench, the—
Lauren slapped her hands to her face, killing the utterly insane train of thought. God, was she an idiot? What the hell was she doing thinking about Nick making love to her?
“You a masochist, Lauren Robbins?” she snarled under her breath, grabbing at her satchel/instrument of destruction before digging her phone from its lethal contents.
She turned it on, keying in Jennifer’s number. Hopefully, her best friend was sticking with Friday-afternoon tradition and had closed her vet clinic early. Jennifer was used to dealing with heavy, unresponsive animals, being the only vet in the district. Dealing with an unconscious Nick Blackthorne would be a breeze.
“I’ve got the margaritas chilling in the fridge already,” Jennifer Watson said the moment the connection was made, not bothering with any kind of greeting. “Tell Josh you’ll be home later than normal tonight.”
“I’ve got a problem, Jen,” Lauren answered, trying hard not to let her gaze roam over Nick. Trying but failing, damn it.
“What’s up? And if you tell me you’re marking school books I’m coming over there to thump you.”
“I’m not marking school books, Jen.” Lauren rolled her eyes. “Now shut up and listen carefully.”
Jennifer made a dramatic
ooh
sound before laughing. “Okay, Miss Robbins, I’m listening. What’s your boggle?”
Lauren bit at her bottom lip. “Umm, you know how I told you I once dated Nick Blackthorne?”
Jennifer let out a sharp snort. “You mentioned it in passing years ago and never let me bring up the subject again. Is this a confession? Did you lie to me? Or are you going to tease me some more with tales of your past? Did you also date Hugh Jackman? Guy Pearce? Geoffrey Rush?”
Lauren laughed, rolling her eyes. “No, I didn’t. But I
did
date Nick Blackthorne.”
“And I’m going to say the same thing I said when you told me before—lucky bitch. Now tell me what’s up?”
Lauren took a deep breath. “Well, he’s here now.”
Silence answered her. For a good twenty seconds or so. Then Jennifer said, “Nick Blackthorne is here?” Her voice, normally calm and laced with mirth, like she knew a really funny joke and was on the verge of sharing it, raised an octave. “In Murriundah?”
Lauren gazed at Nick’s face, his stormy-grey eyes shuttered by thick black lashes resting on cheekbones high and strong. A decidedly purplish bruise was beginning to make itself known on the side of his face. “In Murriundah,” she answered on a sigh.
Jennifer made a strangled little sound. “And?”
“And I just knocked him unconscious in the school playground.”
“What the—”
Lauren jerked the phone from her ear.
“What the hell do you mean you just knocked him unconscious?” Jennifer continued, her voice far from calm and loud enough Lauren could hear each word even with the phone nowhere near her ear. “Why? With what? And
why
? Jesus Christ, Robbins, who are you really and what—”
Lauren returned her phone to her ear. “Jenny!” she snapped, “I don’t have time right now. I need your help. I can’t move Nick by myself and I can’t leave him on the ground. He’ll catch a cold—”
“A cold?” Jennifer interrupted. “You can’t leave him on the ground because he’ll catch a cold? How ’bout you can’t leave him on the ground because he’s Nick Blackthorne?”
The hottest presents are stripped down under a palm tree.
Caribbean Christmas
© 2012 Jenna Bayley-Burke
Under the Caribbean Sun, Book 1
When Saskia snags a last-minute ticket to her home island of Anguilla, she intends to surprise her workaholic father with a chance to reconnect over Christmas. When she finds Dutch is away on business, there’s still plenty to fill her time while she waits. Sailing, snorkeling…and an unexpected, very adult attraction to her girlhood crush.
In Joe Prinsen’s view, there’s only one reason Saskia would drop in after being away for eight years. Sure she’s following her mother’s example to come and ask for money, Joe feels it’s time she learns the truth about Dutch’s dire financial straits. And he intends to make sure she sticks around long enough to hear it. From Dutch himself.
Except the impulsive Saskia takes all his noble intentions and unwraps them, one by one, until Joe finds himself in hot water. Saskia’s only home for Christmas. And once she finds out the secret he’s hiding, and why, she’ll probably leave the Caribbean for good.
Warning: Sex on the beach can be a sandy pastime, one that could lead you, and your heart, in hot water.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Caribbean Christmas:
She grinned. “This is where I learned to swim, because it is so shallow.” She made her way to him, her desire for his touch growing with each measured step.
“What else did you learn on this island, Sass?”
“The basics of a happy life. The older you get, the more complicated things become. Here things were simple. Do what makes you happy.”
“If only we could stay kids, right?” His smile seemed a little sad, wistful even, as she stopped in front of him.
“I’ve come back around to that same way of thinking. If something doesn’t make you happy, it’s not worth your time.”
He scoffed. “That’s not very practical. People need jobs so they can support themselves. There are things that need to be done that no one enjoys. It’s a good principle, but not realistic.”
“Really, this from a self-professed beach bum? What have you done today that you didn’t want to do?” She stood before him, the water tickling between her thighs.
“I’ve kept my hands off you, for one.” The moonlight set his strong features in shadow as he trailed his gaze from her face down her body, his nostrils flaring as he licked his lips. He raised one hand from the water and traced around her navel. She sucked in a breath as he toyed with her belly-button ring, sending ribbons of pleasure deep within her.
“Were you waiting for permission? Is that your kink? You want to be told what to do?” She squeezed her inner muscles together as heat flushed there. She had a list of things he could do to her, and if he made her wait too long they’d turn into demands.
“You are awfully interested in my kinks. Are you fishing for me to ask what yours are?”
She felt the water move before his hands grasped her thighs. He looked up at her with an intensity that made her stomach flip and her womb clench. His wet palms slid up her body and he gripped her hips, his thumbs strumming the three ties of her thong. Each pass vibrated the crocheted flowers ever so slightly, turning her on even more.
“Or are you trying to figure out just what to do to drive me wild?”
“I’m encouraging you to do what makes you happy, whatever that might be.” She placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, the rush of arousal making her want to fall into the water on top of him. But she wasn’t confident enough that he wasn’t teasing her. This intense connection they had made everything feel as if more was happening between them than physical attraction.
He shook his head but didn’t release her. “Show me how to make you happy,
schatje
.”
It would be her pleasure. On instinct, she scanned the deserted beach just in case. Finding no one, she decided to go for broke. Reaching her arms behind herself, she unhooked the bandeau. She held it up with one hand and watched his expression as his chest rose and fell on a ragged breath.
And with that, she knew he wasn’t playing a game. He wanted her. The knowledge sent power coursing through her veins, heightening her arousal and boldness. Moving her arms slowly, she slid the top into her bikini ties so it wouldn’t float out to sea. Her fingers brushed against his as she secured it, but he didn’t release her.
His grip tightened as she stood and pulled her shoulders back, letting the moonlight dance across her bare skin. She often wished she had more to fill out a top, but she had to admit that what she had going on looked damned good right now. He leaned closer, his hot breath teasing her like a caress. His hands, warm from the water, slipped up her torso to her rib cage. He ran his thumbs around her areolas until her nipples puckered into tight peaks.
“I didn’t expect these.” He flicked her nipple rings with his thumbnails and a flash of sharp pleasure rushed through her body. She gripped his shoulders to steady herself. “Do you have any more for me to find?”
She shook her head, too afraid if she opened her mouth to speak she’d beg him to do something, anything to build this delicious sensation. He flicked the rings again and she dug her fingers into the hard muscles beneath his smooth skin. Maybe she would beg.
“What do they feel like?” His words were a graveled whisper as he leaned closer, his mouth right there. “Do you only feel them here?”
He lightly touched one ring with his thumb, lifting it up and down, up and down.
“Or does everything lead back here?”
He skimmed his other hand down her body and pressed his thumb directly on the juncture of her thighs, right over her clit. The pressure felt like both a relief and a build-up of more to come.
She gasped as he stroked the petals of a crocheted flower. She yearned to know what to do next to have him put his mouth on her. She didn’t care where, so long as it was soon.
“These are so small they barely even cover your slit. Did you think of me when you put them on?”
“Yes.” No point in trying to hide now, not with one of his hands on her breast and the other managing to massage her clit even while it stayed hidden.
“Because you wanted me to take them off you?” He started untying one side without waiting for her response.
Though his hands moved quickly, it seemed like forever until he peeled one side from her body, leaving the side where she’d attached the bandeau connected as he pushed her suit under the water. She was completely bare, and her suit wouldn’t even float away. Perfect.
“How long have you been thinking about being with me like this?” He toyed with her belly ring again and little sparks of pleasure arced through her body.
“Since you walked into the shop without a shirt on. You looked like sex and I wanted you right then.” The admission seemed too honest, but before she could try and take it back, he took her ass in both hands and squeezed, hard.
“I got hard following you up the hill in those damned too-short cutoffs. Your legs go on forever and this ass is…” He groaned, seeming unable to finish his thought, and his fingers kneaded her flesh.
Desire swirled low in her belly. She’d never realized how sensitive her butt could be until she watched Joe enjoying touching it so much. She spread her legs wider, wishing with each pass of his fingers he’d slip between her cheeks and do something about the heat blooming between her legs.
Muscle for Hire
Lexxie Couper
Protecting her was never going to be easy.
After sixteen years as the personal bodyguard to the world’s biggest rock star, ex-SAS commando Aslin Rhodes excels in the role of intimidating protector, oozing threatening menace. Now that the singer has retired, Aslin takes a new assignment as a military consultant on a blockbuster film. But just as he’s getting comfortable in the world of Hollyweird, he faces an unexpectedly immovable object. An American martial arts expert no taller than his chin, who promptly puts him on his arse.
Rowan Hemsworth’s focus is two-fold—keep her famous brother grounded, and never again be a defenseless victim. She has her hands full as the fun police, keeping her brother’s money-sucking entourage at bay. But nothing prepared her for the British mountain of muscle who makes her knees go uncharacteristically weak.
When a string of accidents on set convinces Aslin that Rowan—not her brother—is the target, things get bloody tricky as he tries to convince the stubborn woman she needs his protection. And accept that she belongs with him. In his arms, in his bed…and in his heart.
Warning: The strong, silent type don’t come much more silent and strong than Aslin Rhodes. But when he does speak his British accent will drive you mad with desire. As will his menacing, dominating power.
And
what he can do to a woman on the back of a motorcycle.