Bridget Ross is a woman with a shameful secret. Despite a life full of success and close friends she denies herself her true desires in penance for the crimes she can't take back.
Connor Reynolds is a man without a purpose. His own tragic past prevents him from putting down roots and pursuing his dreams.
Their paths collide forcing them to face the ultimate question … is their love worth confronting their deepest fears and insecurities?
She turned her eyes away and flushed even deeper at the mention of him getting hard over her. She was no prude, but she wasn’t used to men so casually discussing sexual things with her.
He didn’t say anything else, but he did shift until he was sitting more closely beside her. She could feel the heat from his skin through the jeans he wore. The cotton of his T-shirt did nothing to mask it either. A soft breeze washed over them and she could smell the light woodsy scent of whatever soap he used. Her entire body was instantly attuned to his.
She saw his hand move but was still surprised when he gently tipped her chin up to look at him. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but the depth of the desire she saw in his face was not it. She responded almost violently. Her nipples sprang to life, hardening and tingling against the simple cotton of her bra. She went liquid at her core and her heart rate kicked up a notch.
“I want to kiss you, Bridget. Hell, let’s be real, I want to do a whole hell of a lot more than that, but I want to start with kissing you.”
His eyes had deepened to an almost gunmetal gray with lust. She was completely mesmerized by his obvious desire for her, by the touch of his fingers on her chin, by the scent of his body so closed to hers. She didn’t bother reaching for words, she just nodded.
He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. They were warm, and soft. As he deepened the kiss, licking into her mouth, she could feel the rasp of stubble from where he’d shaved earlier that day. His tongue leisurely explored her mouth. No crevice went without tending, but he didn’t force his attention on her.
His hand ran gently up her body, stopping briefly to cup her breast. He lingered but a moment as if testing the weight and shape before moving up her body. She luxuriated in the feel of him. The soft invasion of his tongue in her mouth was both foreign and familiar throwing her even further off kilter.
She moaned and leaned into him bringing one hand to rest on his thigh which flexed under her fingers. Her blood was thrumming through her veins and she felt her body tuning to him. Any lingering embarrassment over the portrait was forgotten as she gave herself up to his kiss.
She could kiss him forever.
Connor brought his hand to her neck and exerted gentle pressure to lean her backwards at the same time he turned and subtly shifted his body to cover hers.
She didn’t think, she simply reacted. Her knee connected with his balls and he exploded back from her curling into the fetal position with a sharp cry.
“Connor!” she scrambled to her hands and knees as realization sank in, “Oh my god! I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
Hot tears began to run down her face and she chanted her apology over and over. He wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were clamped closed and he rocked back and forth, the pain evident on his face.
It was time to face facts. There was no use pretending anymore. She was just too broken.
Excerpt:
“I have no idea why you don’t see yourself as sexy, but you are. From your brain all the way down to your perfectly painted toes. Everything about you is erotic as hell. You get me hard in the same breath that you intrigue me with some thought you just spoke.” She turned her eyes away and flushed even deeper at the mention of him getting hard over her. She was no prude, but she wasn’t used to men so casually discussing sexual things with her.
He didn’t say anything else, but he did shift until he was sitting more closely beside her. She could feel the heat from his skin through the jeans he wore. The cotton of his T-shirt did nothing to mask it either. A soft breeze washed over them and she could smell the light woodsy scent of whatever soap he used. Her entire body was instantly attuned to his.
She saw his hand move but was still surprised when he gently tipped her chin up to look at him. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but the depth of the desire she saw in his face was not it. She responded almost violently. Her nipples sprang to life, hardening and tingling against the simple cotton of her bra. She went liquid at her core and her heart rate kicked up a notch.
“I want to kiss you, Bridget. Hell, let’s be real, I want to do a whole hell of a lot more than that, but I want to start with kissing you.”
His eyes had deepened to an almost gunmetal gray with lust. She was completely mesmerized by his obvious desire for her, by the touch of his fingers on her chin, by the scent of his body so closed to hers. She didn’t bother reaching for words, she just nodded.
He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. They were warm, and soft. As he deepened the kiss, licking into her mouth, she could feel the rasp of stubble from where he’d shaved earlier that day. His tongue leisurely explored her mouth. No crevice went without tending, but he didn’t force his attention on her.
His hand ran gently up her body, stopping briefly to cup her breast. He lingered but a moment as if testing the weight and shape before moving up her body. She luxuriated in the feel of him. The soft invasion of his tongue in her mouth was both foreign and familiar throwing her even further off kilter.
She moaned and leaned into him bringing one hand to rest on his thigh which flexed under her fingers. Her blood was thrumming through her veins and she felt her body tuning to him. Any lingering embarrassment over the portrait was forgotten as she gave herself up to his kiss.
She could kiss him forever.
Connor brought his hand to her neck and exerted gentle pressure to lean her backwards at the same time he turned and subtly shifted his body to cover hers.
She didn’t think, she simply reacted. Her knee connected with his balls and he exploded back from her curling into the fetal position with a sharp cry.
“Connor!” she scrambled to her hands and knees as realization sank in, “Oh my god! I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
Hot tears began to run down her face and she chanted her apology over and over. He wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were clamped closed and he rocked back and forth, the pain evident on his face.
It was time to face facts. There was no use pretending anymore. She was just too broken.
About the Author
Hailing from Washington, DC, Elene Sallinger first
caught the writing bug in 2004 after writing and illustrating several stories
for her then four-year-old daughter. Her writing career has encompassed two
award-winning children's stories, a stint as a consumer-education advocate, as
well as writing her debut novel, Awakening - a novel of erotic fiction that won
the New Writing Competition at the Festival of Romance 2011.
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