Oh what an experience that was. Well, DH found a journal in one
of the storage units and started reading and from there he was convinced that I
had to write a story. And after years of hearing him say this--I finally did.
Looking back, who would have know how buying and selling those
units could have influenced my career. I remember the first time we got a
until, our house was packed with boxes and we didn’t know what we were doing.
All we knew was the furniture was worth money. We took pictures and it sold
fast so we had to clean it out. And what did I find? A sex drawer. Oh yes. I
did. Can you say GLOVES? There is nothing sexy about cleaning out someone’s sex
drawer. You can imagine what might have been in there! I won’t share:) Your
imagination might be more fun. In fact, this seems like a good time to share a
sexy excerpt to get back to sexy!
EXCERPT:
Rounding the corner, I enter the
hallway, and Chris is suddenly there in the narrow passage with me, pressing me
against the wall, his powerful thighs framing mine.
My hand goes instinctively to his
t-shirt-clad chest. I am immediately aware of the intimacy of the touch, of my
body’s reaction to the man who has betrayed me. “Don’t shove me against another
wall and try to intimidate me, Chris.”
“I’m not trying to intimidate you. I was
protecting you, Sara.” His hands move to my waist, scorching me, and my
reaction to the sizzling touch is instant. I cover his hands with mine, trying
to control what he does next, but it doesn’t help. Now, my hands are on his
hands and his hands are on my body.
“Call it what you want,” I ground out,
“but you had no right to do what you did.”
“He had to know he couldn’t manipulate
your dream. Money, and my many resources at your disposal, does that.”
His words knock my anger and my breath
away, and confusion consumes me. His actions and his words conflict at every
turn. “Why would you help me? You said I don’t belong in this world.”
“Because I won’t watch him gobble you up
and destroy you.”
I remember his words, and understand now
that he wanted me out of this gallery, not this profession. “Because he’s a
dark, messed up, arrogant asshole who will play with my mind and use me until
there is nothing else left of me I recognize.”
“That’s right.”
“And yet you say you’re worse.”
He stiffens and cuts his gaze, seeming
to struggle before fixing me in a turbulent stare. “I am, Sara, which is why
you should run as far away from me as you can. And I should step back and let
you.”
“Then why aren’t you?” I whisper.
His eyes hold mine, and what I see
there, the depth of his desire, overwhelms me. He flattens his palm on my belly
and I tremble beneath the touch, and he has to feel it too. “Because,” his
voice low, seductive, his hand traveling up the center of my body, “I can’t
stop thinking about you, and everything I want to do to you, everywhere I want
to touch you.”
His hand presses to the swell between my
breasts, and my nipples ache with a wish he would touch them. His boldness
ignites something sultry and dark inside me, a side of me that defies the
good-girl school teacher who is appalled I haven’t stopped this. I want him. I
want him here and now, and any way I can have him.
And when his gaze lowers to my mouth and
lingers, I know he is thinking about kissing me and I have never wanted to be
kissed so badly in my life.
“Do you taste as good as I think you
do?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for my reply.
Suddenly, his fingers have tunneled into
my hair and he’s dragging my mouth to his. I am all soft submission, yielding
to the moment, to the man. I melt into him, welcome the hardness of his body
pressed to mine. And when his tongue presses past my lips, a long, wicked
caress, I taste his hunger, his need. There is possessiveness to his kiss, to his
hand on my back, molding me closer. I am lost in the ache that has become my
need for this man, this stranger I cannot resist. He says he’s protecting me;
he says he’s dangerous. I am conflicted, and sure I should be angry with him,
but I am completely incapable and unable of processing why.
Want to win? Just comment for your chance to win a $10 Amazon gift
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Lisa
******
About IF I WERE YOU:
If I Were You
Fifty
Shades of Grey meets Basic Instinct
Book
1: If
I Were You
Book
2: Being
Me
Book
3: Revealing
Us
He is
rich and famous, and dark in ways I shouldn’t find intriguing, but I do. I so
do. I don’t understand why his dark side appeals to me, but the attraction
between us is rich with velvety promises of satisfaction. Chris is dark, and so
are his desires, but I cannot turn away. He is damaged beneath his confident
good looks and need for
control, and in some way, I feel he needs me. I need him.
More About IF I WERE YOU
How
it began….
One
day I was a high school teacher on summer break, leading a relatively
uneventful but happy life. Or so I told myself. Later, I’d question that, as I
would question pretty much everything I knew about me, my relationships, and my
desires. It all began when my neighbor thrust a key to a storage unit at me.
She’d bought it to make extra money after watching some storage auction show.
Now she was on her way to the airport to elope with a man she barely knew, and
she needed me to clear out the unit before the lease expires.
Soon,
I was standing inside a small room that held the intimate details of another
woman’s life, feeling uncomfortable , as if I was invading her privacy. Why had
she let these items so neatly packed, possessions that she clearly cared about
deeply, be lost at an auction? Driven to find out by some unnamed force, I
began to dig, to discover this woman’s life, and yes, read her journals—-dark,
erotic journals that I had no business reading. Once I started, I couldn’t
stop. I read on obsessively, living out fantasies through her words that I’d
never dare experience on my own, compelled by the three men in her life, none
of whom had names. I read onward until the last terrifying dark entry left me
certain that something had happened to this woman. I had to find her and be
sure she was okay.
Before
long, I was taking her job for the summer at the art gallery, living her life,
and she was nowhere to be found. I was becoming someone I didn’t know. I was
becoming her…
The
dark, passion it becomes…
Now,
I am working at a prestigious gallery, where I have always dreamed of being,
and I’ve been delivered to the doorstep of several men, all of which I envision
as one I’ve read about in the journal. But there is one man that will call to
me, that will awaken me in ways I never believed possible. That man is the
ruggedly sexy artist, Chris Merit, who wants to paint me. He is rich and
famous, and dark in ways I shouldn’t find intriguing, but I do. I so do. I don’t understand
why his dark side appeals to me, but the attraction between us is rich with
velvety promises of satisfaction. Chris is dark, and so are his desires, but I
cannot turn away. He is damaged beneath his confident good looks and need for
control, and in some way, I feel he needs me. I need him.
All I
know for certain is that he knows me like I don’t even know me, and he says I
know him. Still, I keep asking myself — do I know him? Did he know her, the
journal writer, and where is she? And why
doesn’t it seem to matter anymore? There is just him and me, and the burn for
more.
