Lust's Rhythm (Heart of Fame Book 10) by Lexxie Couper Page A

asking for trouble, Chloe,” Josh chuckled.
    Chloe closed the minute distance between her and Jed, slid her arms around his waist, and snuggled against his body. “No, now I’m asking to be defiled by my husband.”
    “And on that note,” Josh spun on his heel, and crossed the suite to the door, “I’m out of here. See you at dinner next Sunday night. At Mum and Dad’s place. It’s your turn to cook, remember.”
    “Tinned spaghetti on toast, then?”
    Josh turned at the door and gave Jed a pained look. “Please tell me you can cook?”
    Jed nodded. Then waved his hand in a so-so motion. “I can whip up a mean chicken and chorizo paella when I need to.”
    A smile stretched Josh’s lips. “Welcome to the family, Jed Brody. See you at dinner Sunday.”
    “Good—” Jed began, a heartbeat before Chloe rose up on tiptoe and silenced him with a hungry kiss.
    He heard Josh groan a second before the sound of the door clicking shut filled the room.
    And then he didn’t hear anything else but his wife’s moans of pleasure.
    There was, after all, some serious post-wedding defiling to be done.
    Wedding present number five, coming right up. The Untouchable was about to be well and truly touched.

The End

Preview another book by Lexxie Couper

Blowing It Off
    Stimulated, Book 1

Chapter 1
    Morpeth, Australia
    “ Y ou know they’re going to call the big guys in for this, don’t you?”
    Sliding her fingers over the smooth, solid length gripped firmly in her left hand, Phoebe Masters flicked a sideward glance at the tall streak of stunning blondeness beside her and bit back a sigh. “I don’t want the big guys.”
    The blonde—a.k.a. Sami Charlton, a.k.a. BFE (Best Friend Extraordinaire), a.k.a. Australia’s most successful female motocross rider—let out a chuckle. “I don’t think you’ll have a choice, Pheebster. Your studio’s been gutted. With a fire this bad you know they’re going to call in the investigation team. If Dad was alive he’d tell you the same thing.”
    Phoebe’s stomach lurched and she ground her teeth. Damn it, when she’d upped and moved from Newcastle to the utterly parochial, completely charming historical village of Morpeth six months ago, she’d planned to never see the investigation team again.
    “And I don’t believe for a second that you don’t want to see them.”
    Sami’s calm statement made Phoebe’s pulse pound just a little harder in her neck. She bit back another sigh. Here she was, standing in the smoking, charred remains of what was once her studio, the place she spent every day blowing molten glass into artworks of stunning beauty, with the acrid, wholly jarring stench of scorched wood and wet timber stinging her sinuses with every breath. Reminding her with no uncertainty that everything she held dear and valuable was destroyed—and she was thinking about Damon Hunt and William Bradley.
    “I don’t want to see them,” she grumbled, glaring at the object she gripped in her hand, the only thing salvageable in the heartbreaking mess. A long, thick shard of glass that, thanks to the fire, now looked like a massive, slightly demented glass dildo.
    “See who?”
    The gruff male voice behind Phoebe made her jump, the glass length almost slipping from her fingers as she did so. She pulled a face, wrapping her fingers tighter around the accidental dildo like it was her one and only life preserver. “No one.”
    “The investigation team from Newcastle,” Sami said to the elderly man now standing on Phoebe’s left. “This has to be arson. There’s no other explanation for such an accelerated burn of materials designed to withstand high temperatures, don’t you think?”
    The old bloke’s wiry salt-and-pepper eyebrows rose up his creased forehead and he tugged at his somewhat scruffy firefighter’s uniform with calloused hands. “And what would you be knowin’ about arson and accelerated burn, missy?”
    Phoebe let out the sigh she’d been holding back for