Isabel Sharpe - The Wild Side

Melissa took a deep breath. “I…I want to try new things. I want an adventure. Something I can remember when I’m fifty and I’ve been with the same guy for twenty years. I want anything and everything but the same old missionary grind.”

Riley slid his hands up her thighs to her waist. “I understand,” he murmured, tightening his hold into a strong, reassuring grip.

She pressed herself against him, shocked to feel him hard between them. Oh, man. He wants me. A guy like this…

He led her over to the couch and pulled her down across his lap, kissing her all the while. She sank against him, totally carried away by the man and his mouth. Then his hands came up under her skirt, skimmed her thighs and settled on the mound of her sex through her panties.

Arousal seared through her; she gasped and arched up instinctively for more pressure, shocked by his boldness, shocked by her own. She’d never been this hot, this ready….

If he touched her, she’d die. If he didn’t, she’d die faster.

Dear Reader,

Harlequin Blaze is a supersexy new series. If you like love stories with a strong sexual edge then this is the line for you! The books are fun and flirtatious, the heroes are hot and outrageous. Blaze is a series for the woman who wants more in her reading pleasure….

This month bestselling Harlequin Presents author Miranda Lee delivers #9 Just a Little Sex…about one night of passion that turns into much more! Rising star Jamie Denton says you need to break the rules in #10 Sleeping With the Enemy, a story with sizzling sexual tension and erotic love scenes. Talented Isabel Sharpe takes us to #11 The Wild Side, a fun, lusty tale about a good girl who decides bad might be better. Popular Janelle Denison rounds out the month with #12 Heat Waves, another SEXY CITY NIGHTS story set in fiery Chicago—where the heat definitely escalates after dark….

Look for four Blaze books every month at your favorite bookstore. And check us out online at eHarlequin.com and tryblaze.com.

Enjoy!

Birgit Davis-Todd

Senior Editor & Editorial Coordinator

Harlequin Blaze

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To Barbara, Elizabeth, Heather, Karen and Susie,

who deserve public recognition for twenty-plus years

listening to my sorrows, laughing at my jokes

and tolerating my neuroses as only the best friends do.

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR…

I’ve always preferred Mr. Personality to dark brooding hunks. Guys with whom I could imagine enjoying morning-after conversation almost as much as how we spent the previous evening. This is one of the reasons I love writing for Harlequin Duets, which is where you may have met me before.

But…to my surprise, I absolutely loved writing Riley, the darkest, broodingest, hunkiest hero I’ve ever created. I had a blast messing up his precise, controlled life by assigning him Melissa, whose natural humor, quirky cynicism and frank desire for sexual experimentation rattle him in a way he’s not at all prepared for.

Throw in stolen jewelled art, a little suspense and a secondary couple who have an equally rocky journey to love, and you’ve taken a walk with me on The Wild Side.

Enjoy!

P.S. I love hearing from readers. Write to me at IsaSharpe@aol.com.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

ROSE BLEW HER NOSE, then added the tissue to the pile on her pink-and-white rose-print bedspread. She glanced at the clock and collapsed into another spasm of sobbing. It was 9:00 a.m. Half an hour since the tears had started. This bout should be wrapping up pretty soon.

She’d finally gotten to where she could view her crying fits philosophically. Months could go by without them, but sooner or later, one would catch up with her. Put them down to exhaustion, maybe mild depression, hormones…whatever.

At first she’d thought she was going crazy. Now she considered the tears a harmless and probably healthy form of stress relief. Since her apartment had been broken into, the crying jags had been coming more frequently. Little wonder. That sense of unease, of her privacy being violated, had lingered, as if the intruder were still hiding in her home.

Ten minutes later, the sobs subsided into shuddering sighs, then hiccups. Rose blew her nose again and gathered up the tissues to take to the trash, giving one last sigh—of relief this time. She crossed to the window, over the colorful rugs strewn on her hardwood floor, wincing when she put weight on the foot His Royal Majesty, Prince Rajid of Saudi Arabia, had stepped on last night. Sweet guy. Rotten dancer.

But then they all had some flaw, fatal or otherwise—not that she had perfection sewn up by any means. Deep down she suspected the man didn’t exist who could make her fall so far in love she’d forsake all others. Though on some level, however shallow, she did love all the men she dated, from the bottoms of their feet to the tops of their enormous, fragile egos. She loved how they looked at her, how they made her feel. Loved the power she had to entice or amuse or excite them. The only thing she’d ever really been good at. Like an alcoholic or a smoker, she was addicted. To men.

But real take-over-your-soul love? She doubted she was capable of it. Her personal fatal flaw, perhaps.

Rose wiped away the last tear from her cheek and drew aside the white lace curtain to see if the van across the street was still parked there. Before the break-in and before that horrible threatening letter, her addiction had seemed harmless. She got everything she wanted. The men got most of what they wanted. Now someone wanted more from her than a good time. And she hadn’t a clue who it was or what it was all about. Someone stalking her? An angry ex-beau? A few men had protested when she’d ended their relationship, but most had parted on friendly terms and gone off on their next hunt.

Maybe it was something in the apartment. She’d gotten plenty of gifts over the years. Maybe some guy had given her heirloom jewelry by mistake and Mama wanted it back.

She could only hope it was that easy.

The van sat across Garden Street, as usual. Ted’s TV Repair. She shivered and swallowed more threatening tears. Call her paranoid, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her from that van. She ought to call the police and ask them to check it out. Of course, it could be the police, keeping close tabs since the break-in. Either way, police or criminal, Rose felt threatened, claustrophobic.