Kelly Jamieson - Lost and Found

She bit her lip as she looked at him. With his arms raised, his snug T-shirt had ridden up and she could see tanned, ripped abs and a hint of golden brown hair just above the low-riding waistband of his jeans. His hair was all tousled from running his hands through it. She swallowed.

She put a hand on his arm tentatively, wanting to apologize, fearful she’d pushed him too far and now he’d be really mad at her. She knew she could get away with a lot with Mitch and he just laughed at her, indulgently let her act all princessy, then called her on it and brought her back down to earth. But maybe this time his patience had run out.

His arms jerked away from his face at her gentle touch and she jumped back. He grabbed her hand, held it tightly. Now she could see his eyes flashing dark gold, his jaw clenched so tight she was sure it must hurt.

“M-mitch…I’m…”

“Kerri.” He growled, low and rough. “Just stop right now.”

She nodded a bit frantically. “I’m sorry. You can let go of my hand now.”

His fingers actually tightened on hers, crushing them, and she yanked on her hand. “Ow! Mitch, you’re hurting me! Let go.”

His hot gaze held hers as she tried to pull free.

“Jesus, Kerri.” His voice still sounded low and rough. “You can only push me so far.”

Her eyes wide, she watched a vein throb in his temple. She again tugged her hand away from his but he wouldn’t let go, rather pulled her toward him. She put her other hand out, palm flat on his chest, hot and hard under the soft T-shirt, to push him away. The warm scents of laundry detergent and male skin mingled as she breathed in, and she trembled.

She pushed ineffectually at him as he dragged her toward him, right up against him, practically on top of him.

“Mitch.” She struggled against him, but he was stronger than she was, and his powerful arms held her there. God, he was warm.

One big hand slid into her hair and cupped the back of her head. They stared at each other, Kerri’s heart banging against her ribs, tension crackling between them like static electricity, and then he pulled her to him and her mouth met his.

“Mmmph.” She tried to protest, shocked to her toes at Mitch’s actions. She dragged her mouth away from his. “Mitch! What are you doing? Are you—”

He kissed her again, his hands holding her head against his mouth and her body against his. Again, her palms pushed on his chest, but something happened inside her and to her shock and horror she was…aroused.

The liquid warmth between her legs and the flippy feeling of excitement low in her tummy stunned her. No! This was Mitch, her friend! She couldn’t be feeling like this. And what the hell was he doing?

He was kissing her. And kissing her again. And God, he was a really good kisser, his mouth firm and warm on hers, opening over hers, and her mouth parted for him. Astonishingly, she was kissing him back.

The room spun around her as he flipped her gently so she lay on her back, and he shifted beside her, so he was almost lying on top of her, his body big and heavy and warm against hers.

His mouth continued to devour her—long, consuming kisses, his tongue licking into her mouth, filling her mouth, and it was so exciting she thought she might burst into flames. God, it had obviously been a long time since she’d been with a guy if she was responding like this to Mitch. But she had never been so turned on as she was right then, and helplessly she arched into him, her hands clutching his shoulders through the soft cotton of his shirt and she kissed him back. Her tongue stroked his and he tasted faintly of the tea he’d had earlier and delicious warm male, so she opened wider, letting his tongue in, sucking his tongue, devouring him.

No, no, no. This should not be happening. The thought intruded into her foggy brain. But dear God, it felt so, so good.

“No,” she managed to moan, pulling her mouth away from his warm, wet one. “Mitch. This is wrong…”

“Christ, Kerri,” he muttered, burying his face into her neck, breathing deeply. “Christ.”

Her hands stilled on his shoulders as she felt him regaining some control, then she pushed hard and wriggled out from under his weight. She scrambled away from him on her hands and knees, half afraid he was going to grab her again, but he didn’t. He lay there, one arm covering his eyes, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths.

She sat on the floor, trembling. She put her fingers to her mouth and stared at Mitch in shock, unable to formulate any words. What had just happened?

Finally Mitch spoke. “Jesus, Kerri, I’m sorry,” he ground out.

“You damn well better be!”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “You pushed my buttons…you just kept at it and I just…lost it.”

“But, Mitch…”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Anger flared in her, hot fury that he would do that, that he would jeopardize their friendship like that, that he would actually use her like that—and he was her best friend!

She jumped to her feet and rubbed her hands over her face. She twisted her hands together. Then she went over and punched his shoulder, as hard as she could.

“Ow!” He was totally unprepared, eyes still covered, and he jerked up. “What the hell was that? Jesus!

“You stupid, horny idiot! What the hell do you think you were doing? You’re supposed to be my friend!”

Not everyone has to go looking for love…for a lucky few, love finds them.

Shelter From the Storm

© 2010 Samantha Sommersby

In any other circumstance, Jennifer Jones’s first meeting with Maclain Moore would have been called serendipity, a happy coincidence. She’s looking for a new roommate; he’s looking for a place to live. It doesn’t hurt that he’s sexy as hell, either.

But the man who crosses her threshold isn’t there to sign on the dotted line—he’s the bearer of news bad enough to shake the very foundation of her life. A life built around a fierce sense of independence, born of a violent incident from her past.

Mac is no stranger to heartache. His career in social work immerses him in it, plus he has his own share of skeletons rattling around in his closet. His attempts to comfort Jennifer bring the two of them closer together. With each touch, she becomes harder to resist. Mac’s body’s response would try the patience of a saint. And a saint he’s not.

Baring her soul isn’t high on her list, but she finds herself opening up to Mac in ways that make it hard to hold him at arm’s length. And as her life spins out of control, their growing passion becomes the only tangible thing she can cling to…

This book has been previously published and has been revised and expanded from its original release.

Warning: This book may spoil you for real relationships. It contains a beautiful woman with a dark and dangerous past, sensational sailboat sex and a leather-wearing, motorcycle-riding man who loves kids, knows how to cook and actually listens.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Shelter From the Storm:

“One failed relationship and you’re willing to throw in the towel?” Mac climbed onto the bed and leaned back, resting comfortably on his elbows. “You’ve got to tell me why?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do. We’re friends, first and foremost. As your friend, I deserve an explanation.”

Jennifer frowned. “Could you put a shirt on for the rest of this conversation?”

Mac looked down at his six-pack abs and smiled. “No. But I wouldn’t mind if you evened the score and took off your nightgown.”

Jennifer realized that was all she was wearing. Her nipples were hard and peaked and embarrassingly visible through the sheer silk fabric. She blushed. “I need to get a robe.”