A sexy, standalone Romantic Comedy in the spirit of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days…with a twist, is available now from author Jennifer Probst and I have a very steamy excerpt for you.
Nolan hit the ground hard.
His breath whooshed out of his lungs, and he was a bit humiliated to admit he may have turned his ankle a bit on the way down, which was not a very manly impression to make to the woman who’d jumped in his arms for a kiss. Of course, that move had been quite unexpected.
His teeth hurt a bit from the crash of her teeth, but he’d loved the enthusiasm, which had taken him by stunned surprise.
He stared up at the twinkling stars in the night sky, and finally managed to get in a lungful of air. It was then he noticed the warm, curvy weight of woman currently cradled tight in his arms. Well, arm. His other one was pinned against something deliciously warm, and wet and—
The realization hit him like a hurtling freight train.
His hand was pressed against her lace clad pussy.
From under her dress? But it didn’t feel like there was any fabric between them unless—
Yep. Half the dress was hanging to the side, torn completely off, and baring those amazing legs to his view. But his hand …
Oh, God, his hand.
He couldn’t help but automatically stroke a bit, the scratch of lace damp and so exquisitely sexy his brain just blanked out completely. Unbelievably, her hips flexed, bringing him even closer, his thumb pressed right over the hard button of her clit that seemed to be begging for some attention he desperately wanted to give. A feminine moan broke through, and she shifted on his chest, her head coming up to look him foggily in the eyes.
“I think I moved too fast,” she said a bit sheepishly, blinking those amazing eyes that pierced through the surface and into his soul. “Are you hurt?”
Yes. He hurt all over, from a pure aching to get his hands and tongue all over her naked body. “No. I’m sorry, I should have caught you better.” He tried hard to move his hand away, he really did, but it was like his hand had a mind of its own and brushed over her hard clit.
“Oh.” Her breath caught and her teeth sunk into her lush bottom lip. She wriggled closer and a torturous moan vibrated in his throat. She was so damn sexy. And yes, he was an asshole because he did it again. Pink flushed her cheeks, and his fingers were deliciously damp with her arousal. “Nolan?” His name broke on a question. A plea. A demand.
His blood boiled with raw need. He used his other arm to grip the back of her head and he yanked her tight against him. Her breath came in choppy gasps and he ached to swallow every single one. His gaze locked on hers. “Kiss me, Presley. Finish what you started.”
He gave her one second to pull back.
Then his lips were on hers.
She kissed him back.
Shocking, sexual heat roared through him at the first full frontal body contact, mouth-to-mouth, hip-to-hip, breasts-to-chest. Her lips opened easily, her tongue sliding into his mouth to welcome and play. Drinking in the taste of sweet wine, green tea and exotic, feminine spice, he murmured in primitive satisfaction, the ground beneath him shifting and whirling like he’d gone on a bender and couldn’t find his center of gravity. She exploded in his arms, her soft, firm weight filling up every inch of his space, driving every other thought and need from his mind except the demand to pleasure, satisfy, and claim. He took the kiss deeper like a starved man, reveling in every slick, damp inch of her gorgeous mouth.
His hand slid under the elastic of her panties—all bets off—and dove into tight, dripping heat. Holy crap, she was so damn wet for him, her pussy clenching around his finger in desperate need for more. Teasing her clit, he curled his fingers and thrust deeper, crazed to make her shatter and come all over his hand.
She cried out, her teeth sinking into his lip, her hips rolling helplessly under the play of his magical fingers that stroked her like a keyboard, each touch making her pleasure-induced sounds louder.
“You’re burning up in my arms,” he groaned, rubbing and rotating his palm over her hot core. “God, I can’t get enough of you. Let me make you feel good, sweetheart.”
He wanted to hear his name on her lips as she screamed; to drive inside of her with his cock with no barriers between them. A primitive, possessive energy surged through him, and he knew in that shattering moment, this woman owned a part of him already after only one night. He’d do anything to make her his.
The faint sound of an alarm shrieking in the quiet night told him fate had a cruel sense of humor. Suddenly, she stiffened above him, those blue-gray eyes widening as sanity began to trickle into their sensual world. Nolan cursed under his breath and said good-bye to bestowing an orgasm to this amazing woman. At least for tonight.
Slowly, he removed his hand from underneath her dress, already mourning the sweet sultriness of her body. The entire episode seemed to hit her all at once, because suddenly she leapt off his body and gathered her torn dress around her. “I have to go.”
He rolled to his feet, his hands up in a surrender gesture. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No! Hell, no, I want to get inside, thanks. For dinner! Not that—bye!”
In seconds, she’d scurried inside and slammed the door behind her.
Well, fuck. That hadn’t gone as well as he expected.
Nolan made his way back to the car, still rock-hard from a night that quickly went from scorching hot to unexpectedly not. She was such a puzzle. One moment, she was a cool seductress who made him want to drop to his knees. Her razor wit and ballsy comments attacked his ego, which had been fed way too much in his past relationships. If he could even call them relationships. More like weekly night stands. His average commitment ranged in the month category, and that was because he didn’t believe in using women to scratch an itch and then walk away.
He wouldn’t mind a partner in life. A beautiful and brainy woman by his side, his equal, someone to weather the good and the bad, and see him for what was beneath his façade. But Presley was so much more than a challenge. It was the woman he spotted lurking beneath the polished temptress that he was desperate to unveil. The one who peeked out when she didn’t think he was looking—the woman who jumped into his arms and ripped her dress—and then argued passionately for environmental reform while she shared intimate things about how she saw the world. The combination was complete intoxication. Presley was complete intoxication.
Nolan drove away, whistling under his breath. Life was good. He was about to open up the bar of his dreams, and he’d met a woman of his dreams, the one who may change his future.
Damn, he couldn’t wait to see her again.