Okay…so I’m trying to tempt you to read this book. What can I say, I’m a writer. If you like passion, read this excerpt and see if you can resist.
He stood and looked down at her. Her legs drew together, squeezing the sensations within her thighs up into her body. Chills raced across her forearms when he reached down to touch the side of her face. She took a long account of his masculinity, another stride toward recognizing the wonders of her own body, to see him nude in the sunlight, to be this close, to see his penis swollen with need. When she came to her feet, his hands closed on the sides of her face and he drew her head closer to his.
Their lips came together, their mouths open, a kiss as warm as the sun-warmed room, a lingering reaffirmation of their bond, evolving finally into a fury of tongues and wet lips. He found the buttons of her blouse and in seconds it fell to the floor, joined seconds later by her bra. On his knees, breathing the scent of her belly, he unfastened her jeans. Down her legs they went, along with her panties, her legs warm on his palms, her scent bewitching. She stepped out of what had become a jumble of denim and nylon encircling her feet. He took up her panties, fresh as they were with the bouquet between her legs, pressed them to his face and drew the scent into his nose.
Marilee heard men did such things—she had held such acts in contempt; but seeing her husband’s face buried in the panties she had been wearing inflamed her even more. Then his hands came up the back of her legs, a firm grasp of her buttocks, and he pulled her close enough to bury his tongue.
Together they went to the floor, a tight embrace on the soft oval rug, bodies joined by virtue of instincts that refused to abide further delay. Engulfed in heat and sweat and motion, confirming their desire had finally escaped nine years of prison, they locked themselves together as if this were to be their last coupling. Marilee tossed her head from side-to-side, her neck taut, and from her came a scream, eliminating her husband’s ability to hold back. He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close as their bodies shuddered and pulsed. Then, their passion spent, they melted into a useless heap, their arms and legs entwined. Their love, weighted and put to the test, expanded and filled the room.
A long moment passed before Johnny attempted to move.
Wobbly on his feet, he walked out the patio door and dropped his depleted body into a chair that overlooked their small back yard. Shrouded from the neighbors by foliage and the high fence that enclosed the yard, he sat spell-like, his elbows propped on the wooden armrests, his long legs stretched before him. Air warmed by the noon sun lay humid on his skin as he slumped in the chair, leaning his head sideways and resting his cheek on his knuckles, thinking about Marilee.
It would take some getting used to, this adventure with a woman he had not really known all these years. Naïve and young, he had married her for the conventional reasons a man takes a wife, not expecting the wiles of an exotic lover, though they had just devoured each other like sex-starved newlyweds. Astonishing, after nine frigid years, that it came to her so naturally, the essence of giving herself and taking from him. And that scream, uninhibited, fired with passion, still tingled on his skin like the last chord of a perfect song. How could that much energy have burned inside her so long and not found a single occasion to surface? Thinking about it, he figured it had been his fault more so than hers. After all, he had waited nine years to voice his thoughts, evidently the catalyst that had awakened that part of her, though he had hammered his frustrations at her in a tempestuous fit. But that didn’t matter. They had crossed the bridge together. They had found the magic of being a man and a woman in love.
So why now? Now that the phantom of guilt had become his adopted brother? Now that his need for Julian Mott gnawed at his vitals?
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