Pres slung his arm
around her waist and escorted her to the apartment.
Brooke leaned against him. His solid body comforted her. A deep breath brought
his pleasant scent of maleness and Ivory soap to her. The dogs trotted along
behind.
He deposited her at
the door.
Ruth raised her
eyebrows when she saw them. “Help me get her inside?”
“I can walk.”
“Right,” Pres said. He
carried Brooke into the guest bedroom and laid her down on the bed while Ruth
unleashed the dogs. He grabbed a pillow and stuffed it under her head.
“Thank you,” she
mumbled, her eyes closing as Pres turned out the
light and shut the door.
****
“I’ve missed
this…you,” he said, leaning over to open her robe. He
stared at her body then closed his hands over her breasts. She unbuttoned his
shirt.
Brooke warmed at the
feel of his hands on her, but chilled at his hard expression of lust. In the
past, his touch, desire in his eyes, and a whisper in her ear could get her juices flowing. Tonight, he was rough,
distant. There was no laughter on his lips or in his gaze. He wanted her as a
man wants a woman, but not with love.
.****
He’s right.
I’ll be okay. Somehow, I’ll get through this.
“I’m here, any time
you need me.” His words were like a balm to her raw spirit. He emanated a
healing vibe, strong and warm. She snuggled into him. Pres didn’t move.
“Hey, you two, get a
room or get out here! We wanna cut the cake,” Harry
called.
Brooke stepped back
and snapped to attention. Pres smiled down at her. “We’re giving that old man
ideas.”
“We’d better go. Thank
you.” She grinned up at him, her eyes dry. “Am I all red and splotchy?”
“You look beautiful. Tell Harry I gave you a sex flush.”
ALL BUY LINKS HERE
Brooke Felson had a hot career on
Madison Avenue, hot boyfriend and a place near Central Park. She lived the good
life until, piece-by-piece, her world collapsed. Shattered and rootless, Brooke
seeks a fresh start, but where to begin? Will grandmotherly wisdom and a
handsome writer help her find real love and rebuild her life?
.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment