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“…Lady Evelyn turned, flinching when Laird Craven pulled her back into his arms. She stiffened and arched as far from him as she could. Work roughened palms skimmed down her arms, before one arm curved around her waist. The hard ridge of his arousal pressed through the silk robe and she struggled to maintain composure. To breathe evenly as he slid the robe off her shoulders, allowing it to fall in a shimmering pool around her slender waist.
His eyes narrowed and she heard the sharp intake of breath, his gaze riveted on her dusky nipples, visible through the gauzy chemise. Nipples which had hardened into taut peaks, begging to be kissed. An unfamiliar heat pooled low in her belly as he tugged the chemise down. Firm lips brushed the top of her quivering milky orbs…”
“Quivering milky orbs?” Eve McKinnon threw the paperback novel onto her coffee table. Disgusted with herself for having bought the book, she rolled her eyes and spoke into air. “Who writes this stuff?”
The offending novel, Craven Desires, didn’t burst into flames from her glare. “And who calls their son Craven? Really?”
Eve stood and stretched, and shuffled into the kitchen. Alone and not having to worry about anyone seeing her, she wore a comfortable, yet tattered bathrobe and oversized bunny slippers. No makeup and her curly, auburn hair was tied back into a messy pony tail.
The muted sound of passing traffic and the hum from her window air conditioner was the only sound in her apartment as she made herself a cup of green tea. While waiting for the water to boil she glanced back at the book, the picture of a fierce pagan warrior emblazoned on the front cover. Intricate Celtic symbols tattooed above the bulge of his strong, muscled biceps reminded her what had drawn her into the antique store when she’d seen the book in the store front window.
The face of the man beckoned to her on a visceral level. His features were somehow familiar and when she looked at the cover her heart filled with inexplicable longing.
At the time she didn’t care what the book was about, she just knew she had to buy it. But she hadn’t expected a steamy, erotic novel filled with descriptive sensual scenes which had her squirming in her chair.
What happened to her? A university graduate with an English Major, she’d descended from the literary heights of Pride and Prejudice, and Jayne Eyre straight to Brawny and Bold.
Tea in hand, she blew across the top to cool the hot beverage and settled back on the sofa, tucking one leg under her bottom. After taking a cautious sip, she set the cup down on the coffee table and picked up the book, thumbing quickly to the page she’d abruptly left.
“…Firm lips brushed the top of her quivering milky orbs.
Lady Evelyn gasped when he latched onto her nipple, rolling the taut bud between strong teeth. His hands tunnelled through her heavy hair, pulling back her head he exposed the pulse which hammered at the base of her throat.
Her skull cradled in his hand, Craven caressed the erratic pulse with his thumb. If he didn’t stop stroking her, she’d fall to the floor. Her legs had lost the ability to hold her weight. As if reading her mind, he slanted his head, and plundered her full lips…”
Eve jumped when the phone rang. She checked caller I.D., hit the talk button and, marking the page, put the book down again.
“Cassie!” Eve couldn’t help the silly grin she knew would be plastered on her face. Cassie had been her best friend since grade school.