Aline Hunter - Make Me Shiver

How many times had she asked herself what would have happened if she hadn’t left him that night? What if she’d stayed and listened to his heavy and alluring Southern timbre? What if she had taken him up on the offer of a drink, some flirty conversation and a ride that could have become something more? How far would things have gone?

Her fingers trembled as she stared at the name on the screen.

What would it be like to let Michael tie her up? Make her a willing slave to his pleasure? Could she allow a man that level of control? Would she enjoy being dominated for their mutual enjoyment?

What if he wanted to take her to the club he frequented and put her on display for the entire world to see?

Her nipples peaked at the prospect and her pussy clenched. Yep, the interest was definitively there—as it had been since she started doing Google searches and watching videos of D/s on the net. Of course, this was Michael she was fantasizing about. With his tall, muscular frame, shoulder-length blond hair and glacier blue eyes. It wasn’t fair that a man looked so damn good you wanted to eat him.

Exhaling raggedly, she acknowledged that even without the kink the temptation to learn what he was like in the sack was a sinful, and in her case unobtainable, fantasy.

She pressed send and pushed aside thoughts of something that would never happen. She wasn’t Michael’s type. He was sure to gravitate toward women with similar interests. Women who wore leather, rode Harleys and liked being tied up in their spare time. He’d never be interested in someone like her. An average woman who watched The Price Is Right reruns, ate her ice cream straight out of the carton and preferred loose cotton skirts and sneaks to skintight jeans and platform heels.

“Mike’s Wrecker, this is Jacob.”

A pang of disappointment struck when Michael didn’t answer. Not that Jacob Lewis was anything to smirk at. Pleasant View’s resident mechanic was also a renowned bachelor who wooed the ladies but refused to settle down.

“Hi, Jacob. It’s Lacey Walsh,” she said, oddly deflated. “I need a tow.”

“Hello, Lacey.” His soft chuckle rasped into the phone. “I kind of figured that. Where are you?”

She quickly gave him directions and snapped the phone closed after she was instructed to remain in her car and wait. Settling into her seat, she palmed the cell and tugged her coat around her shoulders.

It was just as well that Michael didn’t answer. Coming off the disaster that was Scott Barker, it was best she get her kicks from erotic romance novels followed by some quality time with her vibrator.

There was nothing worse than getting herself worked up only to take the lonely trip back home to her computer screen, Twitter and Facebook and dream about what might have been.

Wasn’t that the kicker? Things that occurred in books never happened in real life. There were no tall, dark and handsome strangers who were faithful, gainfully employed and romantic. There were only men who loved you, fucked you and left you high and dry. And when it was all over, if you were lucky, you were left with a broken heart versus a dried-up bank account, an STD or enough emotional damage to make sure you never made the same mistake again.

Nope, when it came down to it there was one universal truth shared by single women the world over: You could always depend on something that only required batteries and decent wrist action to provide adequate, if mildly disappointing, sexual satisfaction.

Who needed a man?

“Mike, are you there? Come in.”

Michael snagged the microphone from the CB and lifted it to his mouth. “I’m here. What do you need?” He released the small circular button and listened, hoping like hell he didn’t have to make a detour. After giving his last unfortunate client a tow to the closest tire shop, he’d hoped to finish up for the night. Too bad heavy snow meant business would be booming, and the temperature wasn’t supposed to rise until the morning.

“I need a tow up on Merril Mountain.”

That was heading in the opposite direction. If he took the call he wouldn’t make it home for an hour or more. “Radio Pat. He was in that area last time I checked.”

“You might want to take this call.”

“Why is that?”

The line crackled with static when Jacob answered, “It’s Lacey.”

Lacey. Damn.

His heart accelerated as his cock came to life, stirring and straining against his jeans. The name alone did all kinds of things to him—things he didn’t like to think about. From the first time he’d seen the newest Pleasant View resident in her billowy knee-length skirt, conservative blouse and Keds sneakers, he’d felt an instant attraction. She was a natural beauty, perhaps a decade or so younger than his thirty-five years, with beautiful waist-length mahogany hair, a heart-shaped face, full and lush lips and the most exotic pair of grass-green eyes he had ever seen.

Everyone had noticed when she moved into town. It had been impossible not to. She was well-known for writing children’s stories, and it had been as if a celebrity had arrived in their midst.

Sure, most of the fans were mothers with small children but it didn’t take long for the rest of the community to take notice. With the way she looked, she had the single male populace standing in line for her signature at local book signings in the hopes they might also walk away with her phone number or a night in her bed.

“I’ll call Pat,” Jacob said, breaking apart his thoughts. “He’s free at the moment.”

“No,” he snapped into the CB, livid at the thought of the town charmer giving Lacey a ride. Pat would try to wrangle her out of her panties the minute her perfectly rounded ass hit the passenger seat in his truck.

Striving for calm, he said evenly, “I’ll take care of it.”

There was laughter in Jacob’s voice when he responded. “I figured you would.”

Sliding the receiver back into its appropriate slot, Mike downshifted and turned the rig around.

His body was on fire, amped up for what he couldn’t have, and his now fully engorged dick pounded miserably. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman he’d envisioned having more than casual sex with.

Too fucking long.

Beginning a relationship was never easy, but adding BDSM into the mix made things far trickier.

He’d sworn off relationships entirely after the bitter fallout with his ex that had left him emotionally drained and exhausted, unwilling to take the risk of entering into anything remotely similar. It was almost impossible to find what he was looking for in a woman. Head games were too draining, and trying to find someone who was willing to be totally open, honest and trusting was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Inadvertently, his thoughts drifted back to Lacey. The first time they met, he’d believed she might be different. She’d been a breath of fresh air, opening up to him without any reservations.

When he’d moseyed up to her at Haddie’s and offered to buy her a drink, her mannerisms and fleeting glimpses told the Dom in him that she was a born submissive. Her nature was sweet, pleasing and delightful. He’d been certain she felt the connection. She hadn’t shied away from his teasing touches, her cheeks blushing beautifully as he’d casually run his finger along her jaw to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Their conversation had been relaxed and comfortable—the beginning of something extraordinary starting to take place.

Until Candice Bradshaw had arrived, whisked Lacey away to the bathroom and put a wrench in what he’d hoped might be a changing point in his life.

A white-hot wisp of anger stirred his blood. He wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel in a crushing, vise-like grip, squeezing until his knuckles turned white. One trip to the ladies’ room and Lacey had reappeared, apologized for having to leave and bid him a good night. When he attempted to offer her a ride home she had declined, refusing to meet his eyes as she paid her tab and slipped away.