undulation of pleasure to signal its arrival. Just a crash of
ecstasy. A shattering of self.
Then nothing.
* * * * *
Oh. Shit.
Rowyn Jeong cast a glance down her body to the heavy arm
roped across her waist. Her heart thumped. The shallow gasps of breath that
escaped her lips seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet room as her gaze skipped
up an arm, over a shoulder and landed on a long expanse of delectable skin.
Jesus. She sighed and then cringed as her breath
seemed to echo in the room like a shout across the Grand Canyon. Muscles tense,
she lay frozen as if she were engaged in some twisted erotic version of Red
Light, Green Light. For several long moments she remained still, her gaze pinned
on the naked man next to her, searching for any sign of wakefulness. After
seconds that stretched like a millennium, she inched from under the arm.
Scoot. Pause. Breathe. Scoot. Pause. Breathe. She repeated
the pattern until her arm, hip, then leg dangled over the edge of the mattress
like limp spaghetti. One more scoot and she slid free. Unable to halt her
momentum, she flailed and her ass hit the floor with a thump.
Damn.
She shut her eyes and dropped her chin.
Just Damn.
She risked a peek over the side of the bed and her
inspection took in the still form. His arm stretched across the snowy sheet.
His chest continued to rise and fall, undisturbed. She didn’t look away as she
edged back from the bed, the man in it, and memories of the night that had just
passed. A hot flash of heat licked over her skin and the swollen, well-used
flesh between her thighs rippled.
She had to get out of here. Like, pronto.
In a hushed flurry of activity, Rowyn jumped to her feet and
circled the room, snatching up clothing that had been hastily discarded earlier
in the evening. Panties in her fist—how the hell had they ended up hanging from
the lamp shade?—she scurried from the dark room. With a speed that smacked more
of desperation than skill, she yanked on her underwear followed by the black
sweater and skirt.
On bare feet, she darted down the shadowed hall and into the
living room. Minutes later, a taxi had been requested on her cell phone, her
purse was over her shoulder and her boots and coat had been dragged on. As she
headed toward the front door, she passed the hall mirror and glimpsed her
reflection. She skidded to a halt. Shit. She looked as if she’d just
spent the night fucking.
With a moue of disgust, she tunneled her fingers through her
dark hair and tried to comb some semblance of order into it so she wouldn’t
look so freshly fucked. After several fruitless moments, she gritted her teeth. To hell with it. She scowled and shoved the heavy strands back over her
shoulder. She couldn’t do anything about…
Her eyes narrowed and then widened in horror as she stared
at her neck—her bare neck. The delicate gold chain and pendant with a tiny
crown etched into its surface were gone. To my princess. The jewelry and
loving message engraved in Korean on the back of the ornament were the only
legacy she had from her dead father besides her almond-shaped eyes and nearly
black, dense hair.
Dammit! She dropped her hands, whipped around and
dashed back down the hall, the spiky heels of her stiletto boots clacking out
an agitated cadence on the hardwood floor. Where is it? She conducted a
circuit of the living room, jerking pillows and cushions off the couch and love
seat and ghosting her palm over the glass surface of the coffee table. Finally,
after long frustrating minutes with her heart lodged in her throat, she stood
in the middle of the room, one hand cupping her forehead and the other resting
on her collarbone. She was naked—bereft without the jewelry. She couldn’t leave—
A short toot of a horn beeped outside. The taxi had arrived.
With one last desperate glance down the darkened hall, she
turned and retraced her steps toward the front door…leaving a part of her heart
behind…
Chapter Two
“Once upon a time,
ecstasy. A shattering of self.
Then nothing.
* * * * *
Oh. Shit.
Rowyn Jeong cast a glance down her body to the heavy arm
roped across her waist. Her heart thumped. The shallow gasps of breath that
escaped her lips seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet room as her gaze skipped
up an arm, over a shoulder and landed on a long expanse of delectable skin.
Jesus. She sighed and then cringed as her breath
seemed to echo in the room like a shout across the Grand Canyon. Muscles tense,
she lay frozen as if she were engaged in some twisted erotic version of Red
Light, Green Light. For several long moments she remained still, her gaze pinned
on the naked man next to her, searching for any sign of wakefulness. After
seconds that stretched like a millennium, she inched from under the arm.
Scoot. Pause. Breathe. Scoot. Pause. Breathe. She repeated
the pattern until her arm, hip, then leg dangled over the edge of the mattress
like limp spaghetti. One more scoot and she slid free. Unable to halt her
momentum, she flailed and her ass hit the floor with a thump.
Damn.
She shut her eyes and dropped her chin.
Just Damn.
She risked a peek over the side of the bed and her
inspection took in the still form. His arm stretched across the snowy sheet.
His chest continued to rise and fall, undisturbed. She didn’t look away as she
edged back from the bed, the man in it, and memories of the night that had just
passed. A hot flash of heat licked over her skin and the swollen, well-used
flesh between her thighs rippled.
She had to get out of here. Like, pronto.
In a hushed flurry of activity, Rowyn jumped to her feet and
circled the room, snatching up clothing that had been hastily discarded earlier
in the evening. Panties in her fist—how the hell had they ended up hanging from
the lamp shade?—she scurried from the dark room. With a speed that smacked more
of desperation than skill, she yanked on her underwear followed by the black
sweater and skirt.
On bare feet, she darted down the shadowed hall and into the
living room. Minutes later, a taxi had been requested on her cell phone, her
purse was over her shoulder and her boots and coat had been dragged on. As she
headed toward the front door, she passed the hall mirror and glimpsed her
reflection. She skidded to a halt. Shit. She looked as if she’d just
spent the night fucking.
With a moue of disgust, she tunneled her fingers through her
dark hair and tried to comb some semblance of order into it so she wouldn’t
look so freshly fucked. After several fruitless moments, she gritted her teeth. To hell with it. She scowled and shoved the heavy strands back over her
shoulder. She couldn’t do anything about…
Her eyes narrowed and then widened in horror as she stared
at her neck—her bare neck. The delicate gold chain and pendant with a tiny
crown etched into its surface were gone. To my princess. The jewelry and
loving message engraved in Korean on the back of the ornament were the only
legacy she had from her dead father besides her almond-shaped eyes and nearly
black, dense hair.
Dammit! She dropped her hands, whipped around and
dashed back down the hall, the spiky heels of her stiletto boots clacking out
an agitated cadence on the hardwood floor. Where is it? She conducted a
circuit of the living room, jerking pillows and cushions off the couch and love
seat and ghosting her palm over the glass surface of the coffee table. Finally,
after long frustrating minutes with her heart lodged in her throat, she stood
in the middle of the room, one hand cupping her forehead and the other resting
on her collarbone. She was naked—bereft without the jewelry. She couldn’t leave—
A short toot of a horn beeped outside. The taxi had arrived.
With one last desperate glance down the darkened hall, she
turned and retraced her steps toward the front door…leaving a part of her heart
behind…
Chapter Two
“Once upon a time,
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