slowed to a halt when she shook her head of hair, still wild from her adventures, and her trembling fingers started working on the corset that now seemed too tightly laced for her to catch her breath. “You should take my advice and stop thinking. It ruins everything.”
“Keep it on.”
She froze and smiled in question. “Because you like the corset? Or because you’re not interested anymore?”
“I like it,” he groaned, gripping her hips and lifting her onto the bench.
From this position she was still barely a head taller than he was, and the chains would still make her body stretch to keep her feet on the bench. Perfection.
She watched as Brandon reached behind him and tugged his shirt over his head, realizing she might have used that word too soon. He was perfection. A mountain of a man carved from rock, just for her. A body etched in hard, jagged edges, awe inspiring to gaze upon, and something she wanted desperately to climb.
His tattoos were just as impressive. More than the usual tribal designs, the dark ink that covered his skin from his chest, over his shoulder and down to his elbow seemed to emanate power, its stylized symbols swirling around his flexing muscles like artistic armor.
She licked her lips, pouting when he didn’t take off his jeans.
Brandon noticed and gave her his first genuine smile. “You don’t have a lot of patience, do you?”
Aziza tilted her head, as if in consideration. She kicked off her shoes and— pulling him closer to use his bare shoulder for balance—slipped her leggings down and off her legs. “I suppose that’s true. I think I got out of the habit.”
She’d spent the last two years living in the moment, knowing she was going to die. There wasn’t time for patience. “Please don’t tell me you’ll make me wait. I’m not in to delayed gratification…and no one likes a tease.”
He took a breath and began to walk around the bench, taking her in. She saw him shake his head in wonder. “ Where have you been hiding?”
Available Now!
Excerpt: Big Bad John
Bigger in Texas Series, Book One
By RG Alexander
Trudy smiled and hummed one of her older songs under her breath, promising herself she would visit the old woman tomorrow.
A low male sound of appreciation caused her to look up at the reflective surface of the window. John stood behind her. How had he gotten that close without her noticing?
“I’ve missed hearing that in person,” he murmured. “You’ve always had such a beautiful voice. A voice like that should be shared.”
Oh God. Between one breath and the next—that quickly—Trudy’s body reacted to the intimate tone. Her stomach fluttered and her bones seemed to melt, forcing her to lean against the large, stainless steel sink to keep upright. Watching him. “Thank you.”
He moved closer and reached around her body to grip one of her hands, still under the running water. His fingers twined with hers. “I didn’t mean for you to do this. You cooked, the least I can do is clean up after.”
She could hardly breathe. “I didn’t mind.” The heat of his body was burning her skin, the thin straps of her lavender tank top tight over her shoulders as she tensed. Waiting. Wondering what would happen next. “Is Jefferson settled in?”
John’s other hand came up to trace feather light circles on her shoulder, down the outside of her arm. His hands were rough from years of manual labor, making her feel soft and feminine. Everywhere he touched her was charged. Electric.
It shouldn’t still be like this. Intense. Intimate. They were strangers now. Why was her reaction so strong?
“John, we should talk about how we’re going to stop him from—”
“We have plenty of time for that. I don’t want to talk about your brother, Trouble.” His fingers tightened on her skin. “Or your news, as good as it is. And neither do you.”
“I don’t?”
“No,” he assured her, his voice low and rough. “I should let you
“Keep it on.”
She froze and smiled in question. “Because you like the corset? Or because you’re not interested anymore?”
“I like it,” he groaned, gripping her hips and lifting her onto the bench.
From this position she was still barely a head taller than he was, and the chains would still make her body stretch to keep her feet on the bench. Perfection.
She watched as Brandon reached behind him and tugged his shirt over his head, realizing she might have used that word too soon. He was perfection. A mountain of a man carved from rock, just for her. A body etched in hard, jagged edges, awe inspiring to gaze upon, and something she wanted desperately to climb.
His tattoos were just as impressive. More than the usual tribal designs, the dark ink that covered his skin from his chest, over his shoulder and down to his elbow seemed to emanate power, its stylized symbols swirling around his flexing muscles like artistic armor.
She licked her lips, pouting when he didn’t take off his jeans.
Brandon noticed and gave her his first genuine smile. “You don’t have a lot of patience, do you?”
Aziza tilted her head, as if in consideration. She kicked off her shoes and— pulling him closer to use his bare shoulder for balance—slipped her leggings down and off her legs. “I suppose that’s true. I think I got out of the habit.”
She’d spent the last two years living in the moment, knowing she was going to die. There wasn’t time for patience. “Please don’t tell me you’ll make me wait. I’m not in to delayed gratification…and no one likes a tease.”
He took a breath and began to walk around the bench, taking her in. She saw him shake his head in wonder. “ Where have you been hiding?”
Available Now!
Excerpt: Big Bad John
Bigger in Texas Series, Book One
By RG Alexander
Trudy smiled and hummed one of her older songs under her breath, promising herself she would visit the old woman tomorrow.
A low male sound of appreciation caused her to look up at the reflective surface of the window. John stood behind her. How had he gotten that close without her noticing?
“I’ve missed hearing that in person,” he murmured. “You’ve always had such a beautiful voice. A voice like that should be shared.”
Oh God. Between one breath and the next—that quickly—Trudy’s body reacted to the intimate tone. Her stomach fluttered and her bones seemed to melt, forcing her to lean against the large, stainless steel sink to keep upright. Watching him. “Thank you.”
He moved closer and reached around her body to grip one of her hands, still under the running water. His fingers twined with hers. “I didn’t mean for you to do this. You cooked, the least I can do is clean up after.”
She could hardly breathe. “I didn’t mind.” The heat of his body was burning her skin, the thin straps of her lavender tank top tight over her shoulders as she tensed. Waiting. Wondering what would happen next. “Is Jefferson settled in?”
John’s other hand came up to trace feather light circles on her shoulder, down the outside of her arm. His hands were rough from years of manual labor, making her feel soft and feminine. Everywhere he touched her was charged. Electric.
It shouldn’t still be like this. Intense. Intimate. They were strangers now. Why was her reaction so strong?
“John, we should talk about how we’re going to stop him from—”
“We have plenty of time for that. I don’t want to talk about your brother, Trouble.” His fingers tightened on her skin. “Or your news, as good as it is. And neither do you.”
“I don’t?”
“No,” he assured her, his voice low and rough. “I should let you
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