bottoms down.
She pulled her mouth away from his and tugged his shirt from his pants. “There you go again. Are you always so sure of yourself?”
“No, Mel told me.”
“I’m gonna kill her.”
“So it’s true?”
“Simon, I thought I was in love with you since I was a kid, but I was wrong. What I felt for you back then can’t even compare to what I feel now.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“It wasn’t last week, that’s for sure. I knew I’d end up hurt, but I never imagined it could be like that.”
He pulled her close, as if he’d forgotten he wasn’t finished undressing. “I’ve proved that I excel at groveling and I’m getting over my fear of saying I’m sorry.” The joking face fell away; there was desperation in his eyes. “I really do love you. So much so it scares me.”
He looked so serious. Way too serious. “Okay, let’s move onto the cons.”
“Of you saying no or yes?”
“Yes.”
“If you agree to resume our relationship, we have to go to my parents for dinner on Sunday.”
“Seriously? Why? Oh, God, did Mel tell them?”
“No, I did. How do you think I got your address? Besides, I needed to talk to my dad. I wanted to tell him that I finally understood what it was like to fall in love. You see, he told me when I was sixteen, and I never believed him.”
“What did he say?”
“Other than it took me long enough?”
“Yeah.”
“He laughed his ass off. He said you were perfect for me. Only you could bamboozle me into getting out of my own way.”
Elyse laughed. “Since I can’t come up with any more cons, I guess the pros win.” She slid her hand over his jaw and looked into his silver-grey eyes. “I love you, Simon. I always have and I always will. Now come on, the water’s getting cold.”
Read on for an excerpt from
Robin Kaye’s
next charming Bad Boys of Red Hook romance.
Available in January 2013 from Signet Eclipse.
“I think you killed him.”
Ten-year-old Nicoletta said it with such immutable calmness, Breanna Collins wondered if this wasn’t the first time a strange man had entered Nicki’s room at three in the morning and been taken down by a woman wielding a cast-iron frying pan.
Bree’s heart traded punches with her sternum, winding her more than a ten-mile run uphill. She sure as hell hoped Nicki’s assessment of the intruder was right. Better a dead burglar than a live one.
The dim glow of a streetlight outlined the shadowy figure lying facedown on the carpeted floor between Bree and Nicki. Dropping the skillet, Bree skirted the body before grabbing Nicki’s arm, pulling her off the bed, and shoving her toward the door.
The man groaned, and, like something out of a horror flick, a viselike grip closed around Bree’s ankle. She landed hard, kicking and screaming. She reached for the frying pan, only to be flipped like a tortilla on a hot griddle and covered with one extra-large serving of man.
“Get off me!”
He held her hands on either side of her head as his breath washed her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m going to hurt you.”
“You already have.”
Light flooded the room, causing temporary blindness. When Bree’s vision cleared and she saw he wan’t an intruder, she wanted to crawl under the pink princess canopy bed and hide. Instead, she dove right into the turbulent, ocean blue eyes of an enraged Storm Decker—the past occupant of Nicki’s room. Storm Decker—a man Bree had known since before she started wearing sexy underwear. Storm Decker—a man who epitomized the reason women bought the lacy, uncomfortable stuff in the first place.
“Breezy, a frying pan? That was the best you could do?”
Bree hated that nickname—maybe because Storm was the only one who dared to use it. It didn’t help matters that the sound of it rolling off his tongue had always been enough to make her breath catch. She struggled, trying to slide from beneath him, but succeeded only in
She pulled her mouth away from his and tugged his shirt from his pants. “There you go again. Are you always so sure of yourself?”
“No, Mel told me.”
“I’m gonna kill her.”
“So it’s true?”
“Simon, I thought I was in love with you since I was a kid, but I was wrong. What I felt for you back then can’t even compare to what I feel now.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“It wasn’t last week, that’s for sure. I knew I’d end up hurt, but I never imagined it could be like that.”
He pulled her close, as if he’d forgotten he wasn’t finished undressing. “I’ve proved that I excel at groveling and I’m getting over my fear of saying I’m sorry.” The joking face fell away; there was desperation in his eyes. “I really do love you. So much so it scares me.”
He looked so serious. Way too serious. “Okay, let’s move onto the cons.”
“Of you saying no or yes?”
“Yes.”
“If you agree to resume our relationship, we have to go to my parents for dinner on Sunday.”
“Seriously? Why? Oh, God, did Mel tell them?”
“No, I did. How do you think I got your address? Besides, I needed to talk to my dad. I wanted to tell him that I finally understood what it was like to fall in love. You see, he told me when I was sixteen, and I never believed him.”
“What did he say?”
“Other than it took me long enough?”
“Yeah.”
“He laughed his ass off. He said you were perfect for me. Only you could bamboozle me into getting out of my own way.”
Elyse laughed. “Since I can’t come up with any more cons, I guess the pros win.” She slid her hand over his jaw and looked into his silver-grey eyes. “I love you, Simon. I always have and I always will. Now come on, the water’s getting cold.”
Read on for an excerpt from
Robin Kaye’s
next charming Bad Boys of Red Hook romance.
Available in January 2013 from Signet Eclipse.
“I think you killed him.”
Ten-year-old Nicoletta said it with such immutable calmness, Breanna Collins wondered if this wasn’t the first time a strange man had entered Nicki’s room at three in the morning and been taken down by a woman wielding a cast-iron frying pan.
Bree’s heart traded punches with her sternum, winding her more than a ten-mile run uphill. She sure as hell hoped Nicki’s assessment of the intruder was right. Better a dead burglar than a live one.
The dim glow of a streetlight outlined the shadowy figure lying facedown on the carpeted floor between Bree and Nicki. Dropping the skillet, Bree skirted the body before grabbing Nicki’s arm, pulling her off the bed, and shoving her toward the door.
The man groaned, and, like something out of a horror flick, a viselike grip closed around Bree’s ankle. She landed hard, kicking and screaming. She reached for the frying pan, only to be flipped like a tortilla on a hot griddle and covered with one extra-large serving of man.
“Get off me!”
He held her hands on either side of her head as his breath washed her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m going to hurt you.”
“You already have.”
Light flooded the room, causing temporary blindness. When Bree’s vision cleared and she saw he wan’t an intruder, she wanted to crawl under the pink princess canopy bed and hide. Instead, she dove right into the turbulent, ocean blue eyes of an enraged Storm Decker—the past occupant of Nicki’s room. Storm Decker—a man Bree had known since before she started wearing sexy underwear. Storm Decker—a man who epitomized the reason women bought the lacy, uncomfortable stuff in the first place.
“Breezy, a frying pan? That was the best you could do?”
Bree hated that nickname—maybe because Storm was the only one who dared to use it. It didn’t help matters that the sound of it rolling off his tongue had always been enough to make her breath catch. She struggled, trying to slide from beneath him, but succeeded only in
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