Read NEXT TO ME (A Love Happens Novel Book 1) Online
Authors: Jodi Watters
Tags: #A Scorpio Securities Novel
About the Author
My love for steamy romance began when I was in junior high. A friend and I came upon a dumpster of discarded paperbacks behind our small town’s Ben Franklin store. The covers were missing and each book was torn in two, split right down the center of the spline. I found that to be no obstacle as I scanned each page looking for any love or lust words—and cuss words, too. It wasn’t long before I was scouring the public library and our local discount store, devouring anything labeled romance. I said a tearfully grateful goodbye to Judy Bloom as Jackie Collins began ruling my world.
I live with my high school sweetheart turned husband and our three, beloved DVR’s, in the desert Southwest. Otherwise known as the surface of the sun during the summer months.
My life long goals are to think before I speak, smile more and swear less, and actually weigh what my driver’s license states I do. And I have been contemplating a hair color change for the last decade. I’m thinking red.
Connect With the Author
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NEXT TO ME
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Remember getting a little taste of Beckett Smith in NEXT TO ME? Be sure to check out WRONG THEN RIGHT, Book Two in the Love Happens series. Beck heats up the pages with his very own story, recklessly getting hands-on with Hope Coleson, a woman who is strictly off-limits.
Excerpt from WRONG THEN RIGHT:
Squeezing the plastic keycard in her palm repeatedly, she stopped at room two-eighteen and closed her eyes briefly. Her heart raced, the pulse in her neck thumping rapidly. She knew what would happen if she walked into this room. And she wanted it to happen, she really did. Straight up stranger sex was an unconventional way to start a relationship, but she was sick of being an adult in every area of her life except this. And he—cripes, she didn’t even know his freaking name—was the first man she’d ever felt such a potent physical response to. A tugging deep down in her belly that wouldn’t be ignored. No casual boyfriend had ever inspired that pull, hence the virginity she so desperately wanted banished. Third base had been her limit with the guys she’d dated over the years, even though everyone thought she was putting out regularly, including Val. Testing them first had seemed more important, to find out if they really wanted her or just the bragging rights her last name would bring. When they realized she wasn’t giving up the goods all that easily, they’d split, and Hope had been happy to watch them go. She was not her mother.
But this one, Mr. Man Candy, was going to be different. He was pretty much guaranteed a home run.
Licking her lips, she took one last, deep breath and squared her shoulders, slowly sliding the card into the key slot. The lock disengaged, the door sliding open with little effort, and Hope’s knees went weak. Her gaze immediately snagged on the empty king size bed, made up in high thread count Egyptian cotton, then moved to the open balcony doors, the breeze blowing the white gauze draperies like boat sails. Leaning back against the ornate iron railing, he stood staring at her, not saying a word as his eyes traced her body from head to toe. Hope had no earthly idea whether he liked what he saw or not. His face remained impassive as he drained the bottle of water dangling in his fingers before pushing away from the railing and slowly stalking inside, stopping to prop a shoulder against the doorway as he nodded toward the fully stocked wet bar.
Fighting the urge to wring her hands, she stood in the center of the room and shook her head, although the small shooters of coconut rum looked tempting. As did the bottles of Pinot Grigio and Chardonnay, the familiar Coleson Creek Vineyards label dousing her need to imbibe. This man was a ride she wanted to enjoy with all her faculties in full working order.
His shirt was undone, the tails hanging wrinkled and loose, exposing a mouthwatering amount of sculpted chest. A light dusting of dark hair covered the toned muscle and her fingers flexed with the need to touch him, her eyes following the path of chest hair down past his ridged abdomen and flat navel, the sexy trail disappearing into the shadowy awesomeness of his partially undone suit pants.
Good Lord.
Her quick inhalation was loud in the quiet room and sparked a cocky half grin from him, making her feel as inexperienced as she was. But that was all about to change.
“Commando, huh? I appreciate the easy access.” Hope had no freaking idea where she found the courage to say that. “In fact, I’m tempted to do a little cheer. With cartwheels.”
“Feel free.” The slow, rough words sent tingles down her spine. “I can see if you roll the same way. Or you could just drop the skirt.” It was evident he preferred the latter.
Looking at him, then around the room, she waited for him to do something. And waited some more. Wasn’t this where the small talk occurred? Where they took a moment to get to know one another before the banging began? At least trade names and a cordial handshake?
His brow lifted when she looked back at him and he gestured toward her skirt.
Was he for real? “Is it always this easy for you? You just nod and direct while the girl does all the work?”
He shrugged, his abs contracting. “She doesn’t do
all
the work.”
God, that voice. It could talk her into to doing anything. Including all the work. “Well, I’m not sure what exactly you’re used to, but I’m gonna need more of an interactive experience here, okay?”
He smiled wolfishly. An all out, no holds barred grin, perfect teeth and everything. Her stomach bottomed out and she smiled back, suddenly, wholly, glad as hell she’d shown up for this. Pushing away from the balcony door, his grin disappeared, replaced by a feral look that had her taking a quick step back. He noticed, stopping just in front of her, surrounding her with his clean, musky scent but not so close that she felt invaded. Giving her an opportunity to back out.
Hope held her ground, her head tilted back, noticing tiny gold flecks glinting in his green eyes. She hadn’t realized how tall he was. How big.
He reached out, tracing a fingertip along the dainty platinum chain of her necklace, down to the tiny heart charm laying nestled in the hollow of her throat. She swallowed, her chest rising when she finally drew in a breath. His touch was gentle, at complete odds with the hard edged man in front of her. Oh, he was downright beautiful, there was no doubt. But good luck to the person who told him so.
“Door’s unlocked. You can leave,” he said, when she just stood there, probably looking like a deer caught in the headlights.
She laughed lightly and shook her head, too hot for him to hide her nervousness. “Nope.”
His eyes narrowed, darkening to a deep jade, and he slid his hand around to cup the back of her neck. Pulling her up to him, his breath fanned her cheek. “Then off with the skirt.”
She gripped the tails of his shirt and held on when his lips met hers, the delicious contact harder, deeper than she expected. His first kiss wasn’t tentative. It was erotic. Blatantly sexual. Angling his dark head, he ran his tongue along her plump bottom lip, dipping inside to taste her thoroughly before he pulled back, their lips clinging briefly. She whimpered when he broke contact, tugging on his shirt and rising up on her tiptoes, not caring if she sounded desperate.
That might have been the best kiss of her life and she wanted more of it.
He obliged, plucking at her mouth and sweeping his tongue skillfully inside. The urgency was still there, but he wasn’t as rushed. Like he had all day to do nothing but kiss her. Okay, there was no
might
about it, Hope thought, letting go of his shirt to slide her hands along the muscled expanse of his chest. This was, without a shadow of a doubt, the best kiss she’d ever had.
Rough hands ran up the length of her bare arms and behind her, pulling her tighter against him as the kiss to end all kisses made her dizzy with desire. Trailing his hot mouth along the line of her jaw and down her neck, Hope felt his significant hardness against her stomach and a surge of confidence whipped through her. He was as turned on as she was. And he was doing amazing things to her neck with his lips and tongue, spreading biting kisses along the sensitive skin of her collarbone as he nuzzled his way along the loose edge of her tank top.
Cool air hit the bare skin of her stomach when he abruptly stepped back with the hem of her shirt bunched in his fist, pausing only long enough to say, “Lift.”
She raised her arms without thinking and he had it off a second later, eyes glued to her cream colored lace bra. His hand snaked out, the tips of his fingers digging into the wide elastic waistband of her skirt, yanking her close so he could kiss her again, his rich taste more intoxicating than anything displayed on the wet bar. With a sudden, hard tug of his hand, her skirt dropped to the floor next to her shirt and he took a full step back, shrugging out of the white dress shirt as he took in her matching cream lace thong with unwavering focus.
“Take the rest off.”
Christ, he was making this difficult for her. It would be a whole lot easier if he’d just do it himself. Perfecting an impromptu striptease hadn’t been a priority for her lately, the possibility of getting completely naked while the hottest guy she’d ever laid eyes on watched intently never crossing her mind. Looking cute while she did it seemed too much to ask.
Suppressing an eye roll, she reached back and unhooked her bra, knowing she was in this all the way. The lace dropped to the carpet without a sound and she quickly hooked her thumbs in the string band of her panties, shimmying her way out of them before she lost her nerve. He groaned under his breath, his scorching gaze assessing her from her average C cup breasts to the juncture of her thighs, and she grinned, suddenly thankful for every torturous minute spent in spinning class. And then her heart skipped a full beat when he tossed a condom on the bed and took a step into her, touching his wonderfully hard body to her soft one, pushing her until her bare legs hit the mattress. Falling back, she let out a surprised laugh and lifted herself to her elbows, nodding toward his considerably tented lap.
“Take the rest off,” she ordered, mimicking his demand.
He nearly smiled but tilted his head in warning instead as he quickly shed the pants, his perfect feet already bare, and Hope just about lost her shit. Despite her unpopped cherry, she wasn’t a prude by any means. The internet had a wealth of porn and she’d seen plenty of it. Spent her fair share of solo time, too. But still, looking at him now—and it was quite the eyeful—she couldn’t help but wonder how the hell this was going to work, logistically speaking.
Because Mr. Man Candy had it going on.
Coming down over top of her, she automatically spread her thighs to cradle his lean hips, his mouth a welcome distraction as he kissed her expertly, sweeping inside to taste and tangle with her tongue. Nerves made her hands tremble as she ran them along the tight skin of his back and up into his hair, tugging when he trailed wet kisses down the nape of her neck, working his way south. Cupping her sensitive breasts in both hands, he licked across the hardened tips before sucking one deeply, rolling the other tight peak between his fingers.
Hope moaned lustily, a surprisingly intense arc of desire shooting from her nipples straight to her core. Instinctively raising her knees up to give him better access, she ran her short nails across the sharp blades of his shoulders and heard him hiss in response. And as his tongue laved her breasts and his mouth suckled, she realized she had no freaking idea what his name was.
“Hey, I have a question,” she said breathlessly, thankful he couldn’t see the blush blooming on her face. “What’s your name?”
He barely stopped. “Does it matter?”
Does it matter? “Umm, yeah. It kinda does.” Seconds passed, and Hope thought he might not answer.
“Beckett,” he finally mumbled, around a mouthful of nipple. His rough hand trailed over her rounded hip, toward her inner thigh.
“Is that your first name or your last name?”
Another pause. “Does it matter?”
What was it with him? This wasn’t a CIA style interrogation, just your basic, everyday questions. And then a disgusting possibility occurred to her.
“Are you married?” she demanded, rising up to glare at him, her heart sinking.
He snorted in contempt and looked her in the eye. “No.”
Well, okay then. That made her feel better. And so did his mouth as he made his way down her body, putting a hand on each of her knees and pushing them farther apart. The sight of his broad, muscular shoulders and dark head between her wide open thighs shocked her.
Holy shit, Hope thought. He was going to do... that.
Her body tensed in anxious anticipation. “Don’t you want to know
my
name?” Beckett? Or Mr. Beckett? If you’re going to do... that?
His breath was hot against her mostly bare skin, the tips of his fingers running faintly down her thin, landing strip of hair and along her wet folds with methodical appreciation, making Hope wonder how deeply he would touch her next. “Does it matter?”
She made a sound of exasperation. “Yeah, it does. I gotta be honest with you on this one, it’s a big deal. And it’s Hope. My name is Hope.”
His entire body stilled, as if she’d just formally declared herself the First Lady of the United States of America, and she immediately regretting interrupting him.
“Really?” he said in disbelief, still not moving. “You’re not making that up?” Hot puffs of air caressed her when he spoke and Hope nearly swooned.
“No,” she answered slowly, taken aback. Okay, so he hated her name. She knew it wasn’t the most popular name ever, but most people didn’t have such a strong reaction to it. “Why would I make that u—ooh, my God.”
He licked her. A long, strong, thorough lick with the flat of his tongue that had her crying out loudly and lifting her hips up into his face involuntarily. Holy. Mother. Of. God.