Find more from this author on:
About the author:
Feel free to write with comments, suggestions, or requests for stories at [email protected]
What inspired you to write your book?
I like to explore complicated relationships and situations that threaten to keep couples apart, and I think race car drivers are hot!
Here is a short sample from the book:
His car was exactly what I expected. Black, expensive and fast-looking.
“Sorry for the ride,” he said, as he opened the passenger door for me. “This is a rental. Most of my cars are nicer than this.”
I didn’t respond; I just slid into the deep seat, trying not to expose any more of my legs, which was an impossible task. Axel stood at the door, watching my every wiggle, and I realized too late that he was looking down the front of my low-cut blouse. It was an unexpected rush; I was no longer the awkward teen he barely noticed. He was noticing me, and I could tell he liked what he was seeing.
Axel got behind the wheel and accelerated aggressively as he pulled out of the lot. I got a thrill from being pushed back in my seat as he sped onto the highway.
As he drove, I realized our conversation patterns had changed. I guess he considered his interview over, because now he was asking questions about me, whereas in the restaurant, I don’t think he’d asked any.
He asked how long I’d lived in the area, how I liked my job, and why I’d chosen my field of work. He listened, and asked thoughtful follow-up questions, and I felt myself relaxing.
I also noticed that he’d stopped the aggressive flirtation, and I had to admit I missed it, even though I knew I shouldn’t.
We arrived at his lot and he drove slowly down the bumpy, unpaved driveway. The framework that had been erected made it clear that his house was going to be huge, a mini-mansion. It looked even bigger than his dad’s house that I’d lived in with Axel. No workers were there; they must have been done for the day.
He parked in front of what looked like it would be the garage, and hurried around to my door before I had a chance to open it myself. I tried to get out of the car gracefully, but there was no doubt he got a peek at the sexy bra I’d chosen for today, and when I swung my legs out, my skirt rode higher on my thighs. I paused and Axel extended his hand, helping me out of the low car. He kept hold of my hand as we ventured onto the construction zone that was his property. When he looked down at my high heels, I was expecting him to make some kind of seductive comment, but he just apologized that the ground was rough.
He pointed out where rooms would be and described a theater and other features he had planned for his home. I listened but was half distracted by the heat of his strong grip as he held my hand. I’d always thrilled at the few and far between incidences of physical contact we’d had when we lived together as teens. I’d always felt electricity at his touch, almost as if it burned. I felt that same energy now, but it generated heat in a few very specific places.
“Are you okay to walk around back?” Axel asked. His voice was soft. “I’d like to show you my plans for the yard.”
“Sure.” I was gathering information for my article, but, to be honest, I didn’t want the hand-holding to stop. My heels wobbled on the uneven ground and my body brushed against his a few times as we walked. More heat. More electricity.
In the back, his lot sloped downward with a panoramic view of the valley. When I told Axel how beautiful it was, he seemed extremely pleased by my compliment, as if he were searching for my approval. The cocky demeanor he’d had in the restaurant was gone, and I thought maybe it was his pride in the property that had changed his focus.
After he described his plans for a swimming pool, a hot tub, and a patio that would run the length of the house, we turned to head back. When we reached the car, I stumbled, tripping over a rock I hadn’t seen. Axel’s arm shot around my waist. He held me up, kept me from falling, and then pulled me against him, pressing my chest tightly against his.
“Are you okay?” He was looking into my eyes with concern and I couldn’t look away.
“I’m fine,” I said, nearly breathless from his proximity.
He continued to hold me tight, and he searched my face, his eyes moving quickly from my eyes to my lips and back. Then he kissed me.
His lips shocked me with that same electricity, ten times greater than the touch of his hand had inspired. I was stunned at first, and then I started to return his kiss. I’d wanted this since I was fifteen. Axel’s smooth, soft lips were pressing against mine, and it was even better than I’d imagined. He tasted better than anything that had ever touched my lips before.
He continued to hold me tight against him, while he ran a hand through my hair, pushing it away from my face, and then deepening his kiss. He gently parted my lips and when I felt his tongue seeking mine, I lost my breath.
I reached a hand up to explore the stubbly texture of his jaw, then ran my fingers through his hair and pulled him closer as our kisses grew more fevered.
Axel backed me up a step until I was against the car. He leaned over me, rounding my body over the smooth curve of the coupe, trapping me. His hardness pressed into me as he laid a trail of burning kisses along the exposed skin of my neck.
My breasts were arched toward him, my nipples hard and needy, poking against the thin blouse. His mouth moved lower on my neck; his hot breath and wet tongue making me grow hot and wet in response. When he reached the fabric of my shirt, he paused and lifted his head.
“Don’t stop,” I panted.
He inhaled sharply and returned to my mouth, crushing his delicious lips to mine, leaving not an inch of space between our bodies. We fit together perfectly. He pushed his hips into mine and I could feel his excitement throbbing against me as his hands explored my body hungrily.
Axel wants me, I thought. I was in the moment, but I also felt as if I were outside of my body, like I was watching from above in disbelief. I heard myself moan, and I breathed his name as if I was dreaming. Like I’d dreamt of him so many times. Axel.
“Kayla,” he said, holding me in his arms like he never wanted to let go.
I sighed and melted into him. And then part of my brain woke up and replayed what he’d just said. Kayla. He’d called me Kayla. I froze and pushed him away, or tried to. He was still pressed against me, so I shoved harder and he moved backward, away from me.
Flushed and breathing hard, I stared at him and took in his surprise, watched him realize what had just happened. My body was instantly cold, already missing his. My stomach twisted into a knot.
How had he known who I was? Was I that obvious? And why hadn’t he said anything? And why was he kissing me, knowing who I was? My mind raced and I had no clue what to say.