A contemporary romance “featuring secrets, lies, royal high jinks, scams and double-crosses; breathless, swooning lust, cocky princes, dominant alpha future-kings, and crafty courtiers, who are not always what they seem”, the Dirty Players Duet by Tia Louise has been bundled together for a very limited time (only available for one month), and I have a little excerpt for you!
MacCallum Lockwood Tate
My fists clench, and the noise at the door tells me she’s here.
Tightness fills my chest at the sound of her voice. I left the patio door slightly ajar, and she struggles against the wind tunnel created. The sea breeze surrounds us, overwhelming us both. My breathing is heavy, barely audible as I watch her, alone in this dark room. She stops in front of the mirror and takes the pins out of her long, blonde hair. It falls in silky curls around her shoulders. I can still see the tips curling at her nipples the last time I fucked her.
She pulls off her shirt, and she’s my kryptonite.
I flew half a continent to Tortola then hopped a puddle jumper to St. Croix then did it again. She has jerked me all over the god damned western hemisphere—I would never put up with shit like this—yet here I am, aching to hold her, wanting to slide my thumb across those full lips I long to kiss.
I came here desperate to find her, and now I want to turn her over my knee and spank her. I’m mad because she lied, but even more, I’m livid at her recklessness.
She’s like a child running into the path of oncoming traffic. She ran from me when men with guns were chasing her. She left with her sister lying wounded, nearly dead in a hospital bed. I told her I loved her, and she ran even further.
I fucking love this woman. I fucking want to strangle her.
Fury heats my blood and I cross the room, pulling her trembling body into my arms.
“Cal?” she gasps, and I hear the fear in her voice.
She’s wearing boxers and a thin bra. I can just see the tips of her succulent breasts, and I can feel her heat through the fabric of her shorts. Memories of our last night flood my mind—the two of us in her bed, our bodies entwined like contortionists.
Stepping back, I pull the shirt I’m wearing over my head. Her eyes change as they move from my hair down my neck to my chest. Her lust is stronger than her fear. My lust is stronger than my fury.
“Take it off.” My voice is anger mixed with desire.
I watch as she reaches around her back to unfasten that bra. It falls away, and her creamy breasts, her dark nipples are highlighted by the streetlamp outside. My fingers ache to touch her.
“All of it,” I say, waiting as she bends to slide the boxers over her hips to the floor.
She’s bare in front of me, and a little shiver moves through her. I watch her breath swirling in and out in little pants. She’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.