An all-new sweet, sexy romance is available now from Monica Murphy, and I have a little sneak peek for you. This is the second book in the Forever Yours series, but it can be read on its own.
“Let’s go.” He grabs my hand and hauls me out of the chair, practically dragging me across the expansive hotel lobby, he’s walking so fast. We stop at the bank of lifts, Cannon stabbing the up button with his index finger, his other hand still curled around mine.
Impatience radiates off his large body and I glance up at him to find him already watching me, his eyes swirling as he studies me. His expression is downright thunderous, his lips thin in pure determination.
My own lips part. I’m about to say something when the doors slide open. We enter the empty car, Cannon reaching out to press the six button repeatedly. The doors close, the elevator starts its ascent, and the next thing I know, I’m being pressed against the wall, Cannon’s arms wrapped around my waist, his body pinning mine.
He covers me so completely, I feel and see nothing but him. Glancing up, I catch him in mid-descent, his mouth hovering above mine for the longest second of my life before our lips finally touch. And the moment that happens, it’s like we’ve ignited a spark. Flipped a switch and turned up the flame.
This is no tentative, hesitant kiss from a new suitor—the types of actual first kisses I’m used to. No, Cannon’s kiss is hungry. Insistent. His mouth is firm yet soft, his lips parted, his tongue eagerly searching for and finding mine. I let him devour me, and the longer it goes on, the more I try my best to devour him in return. I slide my hands up his hard chest, my fingers clutching at the fabric of the shirt, and somewhere in the distance I hear a soft ding, but I refuse to let him go.
“We’re at my floor,” he murmurs against my lips, and I hear a disappointed whimper at his words.
I realize quickly the whimper came from me.
He slips his arm around my shoulders and guides me out of the lift, turns right and leads me down the hall. My head is spinning as we walk, my lips tingling, my entire body feels like it’s caught on fire. I don’t even know how I manage to walk to his room, but suddenly we’re there, and he’s got the key card out, his other arm still holding me, supporting me.
Might I fall to the ground if he lets me go?
The door swings open and then we’re inside, the room draped in darkness, the only light shining from the window facing the city street. The curtains cover most of the glass, only a sliver of fabric parted, but it lets in just enough light that I can see the grim determination on Cannon’s face, the damp sheen of his swollen lips, his large hands as they reach out and cup my cheeks.
He clasps my head in his hands, his thumb drifting across my parted lips. I suck in a loud, shaky breath, my heart thudding wildly, my body taut with anticipation of what he might do next.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispers just before he rests his mouth upon mine. My eyes slide closed, savoring the sensation of his lips against mine. This kiss is restrained. Explorative, but careful.
He still cradles my face, his tongue doing a slow, delicious search, and I simply…melt. Brain cells bleed together, my still-rapidly beating heart seems to dissolve, as do my bones and my muscles and my blood. Until I’m a languid heap draped over him, my fingers curled into his shirt fabric once more, like he’s an anchor and I’m about to sink into endless black depths.
My thoughts are chaos. Bordering on dramatic. Intuition kicks in, reminding me that I want to explore and touch and so I do. I let my hands slide up, fingers curling around his broad shoulders and squeezing just before they slide back down, drifting along the buttons of his shirt, brushing against his flat stomach. Feeling greedy, I slip two fingers between the buttons, barely touching his actual skin, and he shudders.
Power filters through me, solidifying what turned to liquid only moments before. He’s still kissing me, his hands still cupping my face, and my trembling fingers undo one shirt button. Then another. And another and another until I’ve undone his entire shirt and my eager hands push the fabric aside. I break the kiss and step out of his hold so I can stare at the masculine beauty that is Cannon Whittaker’s chest.