"You, Kat. Always you. That won't ever change," he said as his lips settled against mine. His tongue moved along the seam of my lips seeking permission, knowing I would never deny it. Goose bumps moved down my spine at his words as I opened my mouth beneath his. I would never get sick of hearing him tell me how he felt. My heart thumped happily in my chest each time he told me how much he loved me. The heart that I once believed to be shattered and broken was now once again whole. It now understood that love and life were fragile and that it may shatter again, but it also understood that life move
d on and it could be repaired if it gave someone a chance. My heart and I would never take things for granted again. We both understood the importance of embracing life to its fullest. Love always found a way.
Turn the page for an excerpt from
Book one in Tiffany King's Write Stuff Series
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One
His breath fanned across my face as he effortlessly swept me off my feet. The sensible part of my brain chastised me, calling me a fool. I should have pounded my fists against his hard, tanned, chiseled chest, and demanded that he set me down. He looked at me. His mocking eyes danced with a combination of amusement and suppressed desire. It was as if he could peer into my mind, extracting every sinful thought. I wanted him as badly as a dying man craved one last breath of air, and he knew it. There was no way to deny it when my body so openly betrayed me. My chest heaved with anticipation as his eyes moved to my full breasts that barely peeked out of the thin silk dress I wore. His eyes darkened with yearning, giving me a small measure of satisfaction. He wanted me as badly as I wanted him.
"I'm going to make you mine," he murmured huskily, lowering his mouth. "You're going to be screaming my name by the time the night is over." His lips were inches away. The expectancy left my own mouth panting with need.
He stopped just shy of my lips, waiting. I knew he wanted me to beg for it. I would not give in to his silent demands. If he was going to take me, the decision would be all his.
His arms tightened around me as he took in my silence. He knew my stubbornness well. It was what had kept us apart all this time. "Ask me to kiss you," he demanded, lowering me to the bed.
I shook my head resentfully. I don't know why I fought him so hard. My entire body screamed, demanding that I surrender to what it had been wanting for longer than I could remember.
"Kassie," he crooned, playing on my weakness for his deep, sultry voice. He shifted, angling his body so he was lying between my quivering legs. "Say it."
I could feel him, hard as stone, pressed against me. I gritted my teeth, trying to remain strong as I fought the urge to grind my hips against him. Using every tool in his arsenal, his hands slithered along my side, grazing my ribs before tickling the sides of my breasts.
"Kassie," he growled, reacting to my gasping breath as he pressed against me.
I shook my head. I would not give in to his demands. He began rocking his hips. My starving body mutinied, matching his movements in search of something to quench its thirst. Our bodies danced, filling my head with the newest song by A Great Big World.
Wait—what? A Great Big World? That's not right. I jerked my eyes from my computer screen, surprised to find my vision slightly blurred. Sunlight streamed through the blinds that I had forgotten to close the night before. I shook my head to clear some of the cobwebs muddling my brain. The last time I remembered looking up, it had been pitch black outside. I had been writing all night. The music that had grabbed my attention continued to wail from somewhere in the chair I was sitting in. Rubbing a hand across my eyes, I groped for my phone, which had slid down the arm of the oversized recliner and nestled between the cushions. Happy to see the call was from my best friend, Olivia, I slid my finger across the screen before croaking out a greeting from my dry-as-the-desert throat. Judging by the empty cup sitting on the small table adjacent to the chair, it had been some time since I had last drunk anything. I had a habit of neglecting all my basic needs whenever I became engulfed in writing. Case in point, my bladder that was suddenly demanding my attention. It was a creepy thought, but if my bladder could talk, it would try making a case for me to at least wear Depends or something. Considering this wasn't my first novel, you'd think my body would be used to the routine by now.
"Nicole?" Olivia asked, sounding concerned.
I cleared my throat to find a voice that sounded more human, but my second attempt at talking wasn't much better. "Yes."
"Are you sick?"
"No," I answered, grabbing a can of diet soda from the table next to my chair. I shook it to find the can about half empty and took a swig. Yuck. Flat diet soda absolutely sucked donkey nuts. I grimaced as the vile liquid slid down my dry throat. At the very least, it served its purpose to wet my whistle so I could talk without sounding like a toad.
"Are you sure? The way you sound, I feel like I should be ordering a casket. May I suggest something in taupe? That way your pasty-ass complexion won't stand out so much."
"Nice to talk to you too, whore. Just an FYI, corpses are all pale. Even your tan ass will be pasty when you kick the bucket."
Olivia snorted with laughter through the phone and I couldn't help smiling. I'm sure an outsider listening to one of our conversations would seriously question our friendship. Words like whore and slutbag were regular terms of endearment for us. Nestling my cell phone between my shoulder and ear, I clicked save on my laptop before setting it aside. I hated taking a break when I was in the zone, but my bladder was done being ignored. I stood up, groaning like my grandpa during Thanksgiving at the way my body popped and creaked. Every single muscle in my legs and back was stiff and tight. Considering I was only twenty-two years old, it was nothing to brag about. "Hey, Liv, can I call you back? I have to pee something fierce and my stomach is threatening mutiny if I don't throw some sustenance in it."
"No, wait! I was calling for a reason. I need you. Like now." Her tone was as dramatic as she could make it.
Rolling my eyes, I danced outside the bathroom, trying my best not to wet my pants. "Liv, I'll call you back. I promise." My attempt to reassure her was sincere, but the toilet was taunting me like a prized throne.
"No, you won't. I know you too well to fall for that line. You'll go pee, fix something to eat and then totally get wrapped back up in your book. I'm not hanging up until you agree to come help me."
"Come help you?" I grimaced, catching my reflection in the mirror. To call it bad would have been an understatement. If it were Halloween, I could have terrified every kid that came to my door. My hair stuck out in several directions from what appeared to be a haphazard attempt at a bun on top of my head. I remembered becoming aggravated around two a.m. after my hair kept falling in my face, obstructing my view of the computer screen. Somehow between then and now it had turned into a condemned bird's nest. My stretched-out T-shirt gracefully showcased a chocolate stain from when I became a little overzealous with a Hershey's syrup bottle. I'd unwittingly allowed my chocolate supply to run out, and desperate times called for desperate measures. The worst part was my yoga pants, which made my hair and T-shirt almost seem classy. Most of my thigh area was covered in orange fingerprints from when I'd been too wrapped up in my current work in progress to grab a napkin while I munched on cheese puffs.
"Liv, I'm not going anywhere." I turned away from the mirror before it could break or my reflection could shriek in disgust. "I look like something the cat wouldn't bother dragging in. Besides, I want to finish this chapter before I lose my groove."
"Nicole, this is serious. If you want that smexy book to have a cover, you need to get your ass down here. The lighting is just right, and we only have a small window to catch it. The forecast for the rest of the week is calling for rain."
Unable to put my bladder off a moment longer, I dropped my cheese-covered pants and sank down on the toilet. "Liv, you know those crackpots on the news never get the weather right. It's the only job where you can be wrong all the time and still stay employed."