Lisa Jones - Being Me

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Being Me: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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The sexy second installment in the Inside Out erotic romance trilogy, following
—in the seductive tradition of
. Fascinated by the dark fantasies in the journals she’s discovered, and the two men who have now found a place in her life, Sara McMillan finds herself torn between her new life and her past. Now, more than ever, Sara identifies with the lost journal writer, Rebecca, and is certain that something sinister has happened.
In the arms of the sexy, tormented artist Chris Merit, Sara seeks answers about Rebecca and ends up discovering things about herself she never knew existed. Chris forces Sara to reconsider who she is and what she truly wants from life, but not before his dark desires threaten to tear them apart. Her boss, Mark Compton, offers her the shelter to understand just what those needs mean to her, and what they might have meant to Rebecca, but can she trust him to lead her to a final conclusion to Rebecca’s story?

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I shove my hands under his shirt, absorbing the hot feel of taut skin over hard muscle, pressing closer to him. A rough sound of desire rumbles in his chest, and I revel in his pleasure, his desire for me, at the way his hands slide down my back, over my backside, before he pulls me hard against his groin. I lick into his mouth as I feel his erection thick against my stomach, and something just snaps inside me. I don’t care where I am. I don’t know where I am. I just want Chris. I cannot stop touching him, tasting him. We are all over each other and I am lost. And still, it’s not enough to keep that dark seed at bay. I need something . . . more. I need . . .

“Sara.”

I gasp as Chris tears his mouth from mine and my name is a rasp of heat and desire torn from his throat. With no concept of how much time has passed, I’m against the wall and I don’t remember how I got there, nor do I care. I try to kiss Chris again. His fingers tunnel into my hair, holding me back, and he is breathing as hard as I am. “We have to stop before I get us arrested. And right now, it wouldn’t take much to risk it just to be inside you.”

Yes. Please . Chris inside me, filling me. I crave that more than my next breath. I blink up at him, dazed but not confused about what I want, which is him. Now. Here. But the sound of an engine, and the laughter of a child, blast through me with a jolt that stiffens my spine. Everything that’s happened in the past hour rushes over me and balls into a tight knot in my stomach. I am appalled that I have forgotten where I am, and the urgency of needing to secure Rebecca’s things.

I splay my hand over the warm heat of Chris’s chest. “I forgot the time.” I’m panting. How can I not be with this man’s hips ground to mine, promising the kind of sweet escape I know he can give me? I push thoughts through the haze of lust. “I forgot to lock the unit. I have to get back before the main building is locked and I can’t.” I want to tell him everything that has happened. He’s the only person I can talk to about my fears for Rebecca, but I instinctively know he will flip out and ask too many questions when I have no time. I have to get to the storage unit quickly. “Can you follow me over? I need to hurry.” I don’t wait for an answer. I slide along the wall to make my escape and ineffectively try to dart around him.

His hand settles on the wall by my head, caging me in. “What do you need from Rebecca’s storage unit this late at night?” His jaw is set in that stubborn way I am coming to know, and despite its meaning, a part of me revels that I am coming to know him.

I brush my hand over the dark blond stubble on his jaw responsible for the delicious rasp on my cheek. “Can I explain on the way over? Please, Chris? I really don’t want to get sealed out of the main building.”

His keen stare cuts through the darkness and, damn it, I was right in my assumption. He’s steel, unmoving. Unwilling to let me escape without explanation. “What haven’t you told me, Sara?”

“In case you don’t know, you can be very overbearing, Chris. I’ll tell you on the way over.”

“Tell me now.”

“They’ll lock the building, Chris.”

He doesn’t move. Right. Of course not. Chris is always in control. Not always , a voice in my head says, and I remember him offering me his shirt to keep me from feeling insecure about my nudity when he was still dressed. In small but important ways he shares the power with me.

“I stopped by to see if I could find anything else that might tell me how to contact Rebecca.” I intend to say no more, but he stares at me and my tendency toward nervous rambling kicks in. “I lost track of time and then all of a sudden the power went out and it was pitch black. I felt like I was suffocating and I couldn’t see anything and I got spooked. I heard this weird popping sound and I felt like I wasn’t alone.”

“What do you mean you felt like you weren’t alone?”

“I just know I wasn’t alone. Someone was inside the building. It felt like they were stalking me. I didn’t know if I should hide or run and I couldn’t see my damn phone to dial. I finally ran and when I got to my car I drove here. That’s how I ended up leaving the unit unlocked. I’d just pulled in here when you called.”

He stares at me for another intense moment and then pushes off the wall, cursing under his breath as his hands settle on his hips, under his jacket. “What the fuck were you doing at the storage unit after dark alone in the first place?”

My defenses flare, made worse by the fact that I know it wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done. Stupidity is not an easy thing to face. “Don’t curse at me, Chris.”

“Don’t make decisions that put yourself in danger and I won’t.”

My feathers are ruffled further. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“Is that what you call tonight?” His anger is palpable, crackling off him like the hum of electricity. “Taking care of yourself? Because if it is, you’re scaring the crap out of me, Sara. I told you I’d have someone look into Rebecca’s whereabouts and that means you leave it the hell alone.”

I’m more than defensive now. I’m pissed. I don’t need another man to tell me I don’t know how to take care of myself. I lash out. “We’ve had this conversation, Chris. Fucking me does not give you the right to run my life.”

His jaw flexes, and while the shadows hide the green of his eyes, I’m pretty sure they’d be burning with red-hot anger. “Is that what we’re back to, Sara? I’m fucking you? Is that where last night took us again? Why you are all over me in a parking lot? Because if you want me to fuck you, I’ll fuck you until you can’t remember your damn name and you never forget mine.”

Heat rushes over me because I know how capable he is of making good on his words. But in their depths is the inference I’m not already there, that he doesn’t know I will never forget him, and more so, that I don’t want to try. I open my mouth to say as much, but I don’t get the chance.

“Decide now, Sara,” he demands. “If I’m with you beyond a few fuck sessions, I’m damn sure going to do everything I can to protect you and you’re going to have to deal with it.”

My mood shifts instantly with his ultimatum. I’m already in old demon territory and I can suddenly taste the poison of the past in every word I hiss. “Protect me or control me, Chris?”

I wait for him to react, to try to smash me back down, to demand of me whatever he sees as his right. Part of me wants him to rise to this challenge. Another fears he will. But at least if he does, I know how to deal with it.

But this is Chris, and he doesn’t do anything I expect, now or ever. He just stares at me, his expression unreadable, his jaw set in a hard line.

Long, tense seconds tick by, and he reaches into his jacket and snatches his keys from his pocket. “Let’s go lock the damn storage unit.”

He turns away and I feel my stomach sink to my feet. I don’t want to fight with him. And I’m not fighting with Chris, anyway, I realize. I’m fighting with my past and I refuse to let my old demons come between us.

I dart forward and put myself between him and the car, my hand settling on his chest. He doesn’t touch me. He stares down at me and I see no emotion in him. I’ve seen this Chris, back at the winery, when he’d been given something of his father’s, when he was shutting down emotionally, and I am not going to let him do that now. Not with me. Not because I let some damnable past demon get in the way.

Emotion claws at my chest and my lashes lower. “I’m sorry.” I draw a heavy breath and meet his stare. I’m scared to death of being vulnerable with this man who, without even trying, has more power over me than anyone before him did, but I remind myself that coming here was his olive branch, his act of vulnerability. “I needed you to be here and somehow you are, and it means more to me than you can possibly know. I don’t know how I’ve made such a mess of this, Chris. Please don’t let me screw this up again like I did last night.”

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