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About the author:
Tabatha Kiss lives in Chicago, Illinois. You can probably catch her huddled up in a hoodie, reading a good romance beneath a tree in Jackson Park with her trusty husky by her side. She enjoys roller derby, sushi, and is always searching for her forever bad boy. In the meantime, she writes.
What inspired you to write your book?
A, old, college crush. 🙂
Here is a short sample from the book:
I smile and push the door open, instantly struck in the face with hot steam from recently-run showers.
“Dad?” I call, my voice echoing throughout the room. It’s dead silent, save the occasional tap of a dripping shower head and the sound of my boots thumping beneath me. “Mr. Car-y P-ier-ce?” I say, adding a vibrato and listening to it echo back at me.
I walk towards the office in the back, performing quick head tilts around corners as the rows of lockers pass me by.
A white towel comes into view, tossed around the naked hips of a man standing before the last row of lockers.
“Oh—!” I halt, nearly slipping on the moist floor. My eyes crash down and I keep them there. “Sorry, I was told the team was gone and—”
“It’s okay, Ellie.”
His chuckle fires down my spine.
I look up to see Junior Morgan standing there in nothing but a damp, white towel. His skin is wet with little rivulets of water still tumbling down to his toes. I press my lips together, my eyes instantly drawn to the tattoos staining his white skin, along with the muscles pushing out beneath them.
“Oh, Ellie.” He lets out a quick whistle. “I’m up here.”
I clear my throat and force my eyes to meet his. “I was just looking—”
“For your dad,” he grins, reaching into his open locker for a stick of deodorant.
“Right.” I take a breath. “Why didn’t you say you were in here?”
“Well, you weren’t screaming my name.” He shoots me the briefest of glances, just a quick check to see whether or not I’m still gawking at him as he glides the deodorant under his armpits.
Heat spreads over my skin. It’s far too warm in here for this sweater but there’s no way I’m taking it off with Junior Morgan standing half buck in front of me. A bead of sweat travels down my back, tickling my nerves with welcome discomfort.
“He left a few minutes ago,” Junior adds. “Before I got in the shower.”
“Oh. Thanks.” I turn my back to him, eager to put a mile of distance between us before I let that Adonis belt of his turn me extra stupid.
“Leaving so soon?” he asks, amusement dripping off his tone. “You just got here.”
Don’t let him bait you. Don’t turn around. Just say nothing and leave.
I turn around and look at him, my pulse quickening at the stiff, wet strands of his dark hair poking down to his eyes.
“You’re naked,” I say.
He shrugs. “I know.”
“So… that means I should leave.”
“If you wanted to leave, you would have left by now.”
I twist away, spinning on my heels to take me far, far away from that throbbing magnet begging to keep me here. “Bye, Junior.”
“Wait. Come here.”
“I have to meet my dad.”
“It’ll only take a minute, Ellie. I promise.”
I pause my stride, battle raging between my head and my core. When I look back at him, he draws an X over his upper chest, slicing two lines through the moisture built up on his skin.
“Cross my heart,” he says.
“Why?” I ask, stalling.
“Because I have a theory and I would like to test it.”
“I didn’t realize you were such a science enthusiast, Junior.”
“Just biology,” he smirks.
I cross my arms, trying to ignore the next wave of heat coursing through me. Everything about him bleeds confidence right now and I despise him for it. Mostly because it’s working exactly how he wants. I’m pretty sure the wetness between my thighs isn’t from the steam in here.
“Come here,” he says again. “No games, no bullshit. Just come here.”
My feet pull me forward on their own, bridging the distance between us. As I move closer, I see the finer details of his tattoos and the water still glistening against his skin. Or is it sweat? Oh, god — who cares?
I snap out of it. “Huh? No—”
“Come on, Ellie.” Junior stands up a little taller, his hooded eyes calling every bluff I have in me. “I can tell you want to. Just do it.”
My lungs take quick, shallow breaths, never quite satisfied with the thick, locker room air. I reach out, pointing one finger, and slowly trace it over his abs.
He flexes against my touch, protruding them even more and I can’t help but suck in my bottom lip.
“Ellie,” he chuckles.
I twitch. “What?”
“I wasn’t talking about my abs.”