A sexy new romance in Emma Chase’s Getting Some world is out next week in eBook and print, and I have an awesome excerpt for you. The story features a doctor/divorced, single dad of three and the young nurse he can’t stop thinking about, and it’s got that perfect blend of steam and heart that makes this author’s stories impossible to put down. I really loved the audiobook.
One hot Saturday afternoon in June, Connor and I make plans to go jogging a little before dusk. He pulls into my driveway while I’m on the front lawn limbering up.
I spend an embarrassing amount of time choosing my clothes for our outings. Obviously, I want to look good in a way that gets his attention—but I don’t want to look like I’m trying to look good.
It’s a delicate balance.
Today I’m wearing black Lycra bike shorts that accentuate my legs and a cute oversized zip-up white hoodie. As Connor rounds the front of his truck, looking good enough to eat in a gray short sleeved T-shirt that hugs his biceps and black basketball shorts, I unveil the pièce de résistance of today’s outfit.
I unzip my sweatshirt and tie it around my waist—leaving me in nothing up top but a new teal sports bra that goes great with my tanned summer skin and pushes the girls together fabulously, without strapping them down.
Connor takes one look at me—and trips over his feet.
Oh, how the tables have turned.
“You okay there?” I ask playfully.
“I’m good.” He nods. Then he clears his throat and gestures to me. “That’s ah . . . nice top.”
“Thanks.” I smile. “I have it in white too.”
I’m tempted to mention that you can see my nipples through the white one—but I think that would be overdoing it.
We head out on the path that starts behind my house and winds through the woods around the lake in a serpentine pattern. We fall in step beside each other, the rhythm of our strides matching, in a comfortable silence. The air is warm but it’s cooler on the trail beneath the trees.
I love this time of day. How the fading sun glows deep orange through the branches and the shadows slowly descend, turning everything tranquil and secluded.
Two miles in, we stop for a water break. I brace my foot on a boulder and tighten my loose shoelace. A few feet away, Connor tips his head back and takes a drink from his Lakeside Memorial water bottle.
I stand with my arms at my sides, watching his throat ripple as he swallows and a little wet drop slides down from the corner of his mouth to his chin. He’s got an awesome chin—the kind you want to scrape your teeth against and bite. Move over, John Travolta, there’s a new chin king in town.
Connor glances at my empty hands.
“Where’s your water?”
“I left it on the front table.” I swipe my arm across my forehead and lick at my parched lips.
And I feel his eyes on me—on my mouth—like the secrets of the universe are tattooed there.
He holds out his bottle. “Do you want some of mine?”
His voice is deeper than usual, rough . . . like he’s asking me one thing, but thinking something else. That happens sometimes, but I never know if it’s just my imagination. Connor can be guarded—difficult to read.
But every once in a while, I think he feels it too.
The pull between us. The magical, breath-stealing magnetism that says we could be outstanding together.
We could be everything.
But I can’t ever be sure. And I can’t afford to be wrong.
This time I get to spend with him is too precious to me. I can’t risk misinterpreting him, reaching for more and ending up falling on my face in front of him, like I have so many times before.
My tongue pokes out again, tasting salt on my upper lip.
Connor walks up to me and passes the bottle, standing so close I have to step back to take a drink. As I bring the bottle to my lips, he doesn’t move, I’m not even sure he breathes.
He just watches. And it’s different from how he’s looked at me any time before.
His jaw is taut and his eyes seem to grow darker the longer he looks. The muscles in his forearms are strung tight and straining. Like he’s holding himself back . . . but only just barely.
Then he says my name. It comes out on a low breath, hushed but sharp—like a warning.
My chest rises and falls but I can’t catch my breath. We stand just inches apart, gazes locked.
And it would be so easy for him to dip his head and kiss me. I’m right here—waiting and wanting.
All he has to do is want me back . . .