An all-new steamy, standalone New Adult romance is out today from authors Robin Bielman and Samanthe Beck, and I have an excerpt for you.
“Are you busy tomorrow night?”
“Great. Let’s go to the club together.”
Like a date? The suggestion / invitation—whatever it is—sends quivers up my arm and puts fireflies in my stomach. I discreetly suck in a breath.
I haven’t felt this kind of thing since high school. My friends and I used to say the boys we crushed on in our small town didn’t put butterflies in our stomachs; they put fireflies because our faces would glow when we thought about them. I look down at my lap before I embarrass myself by glowing.
I can’t seem to stop this attraction to him, and if I’m reading his body language right, he’s attracted to me, too. I close my eyes for a second to focus on my pounding heart. My head can talk all it wants about accepting things that can’t be changed, and moving forward, but the heart is a different organ. My heart doesn’t care about logic. It’s caged in a prison of its own making, stubbornly locked up. I can’t figure out how to set it free. And until I do, I shouldn’t be thinking about a date or a kiss with someone else.
This awareness between us may feel good, and deep down I may want to explore it more, but I can’t. I’m not ready. I’m out of my depth.
“Or not,” he says when I fail to give him an answer. “I just thought I’d be neighborly.”
Oh. Disappointment floods me. My own fault for taking too long to answer him. I press my lips together, jump to my feet, and slide around to the back of the lounge chair. My fingers curl around the backrest to help steady me. “I, uh, need to head inside to do some reading.”
“Reading? What kind of reading?”
“Boring law school stuff,” slips out of my mouth before I can think about it.
He stands, his eyes traveling over my suddenly sensitive skin before meeting my gaze again. “You’re in law school?”
“Not yet. I’m starting this fall, but there’s some recommended summer reading.” That I can’t believe I’m even peeking at. Routine is hard to break, though. And so is the promise I made to my dad. Hot guy versus Law 101 should be a no-brainer, yet I’m doing what I do best. Keeping my distance. Keeping things safe and steady, under control.
“I admire your dedication.” I shrug.
“If you decide you want to go tomorrow night, let me know. I’ll drive you.”
“Oh, um, okay. Maybe.”
Vaughn takes a small step closer. “Look, if this is because of what happened the other night, you don’t need to worry. I don’t make a habit of drinking and driving. You’re safe with me.”
But I’m not. And not for the reasons he thinks. Reasons that scare me because they’re new and unexpected and I don’t know if I want to feel them.
“I do want to, but I’d rather meet you there,” I say firmly, gaining my composure back.
He once again studies me with an intensity that is unnerving. I’m so lost in his stare that I don’t notice he’s moved forward to trace his finger down my arm until I quiver. “Fair enough. But I’m going to prove you can trust me.” He pulls out his cell. “Can I at least have your number in case anything changes?”
I give it to him without a thought then stand there for a good five minutes after he’s walked away to contemplate what he just said.
Vaughn wants a next time.
My caged heart rattles the bars.