An excerpt from SWEET SINFUL NIGHTS…
She turned around and pushed hard on the ladies room door. But she felt his hand around her wrist, and he yanked her back, spinning her in one quick move, so she was chest to chest with him. She felt his breath on her.
“It did work out well for me. I’m also not the same person I was ten years ago,” he said, then did that thing again — that thing where he undressed her with his eyes, where he fucked her completely with his hot, dirty stare. “And you obviously have become a different person too.”
He tugged her, pulled her closer. His heart pounded against her breasts. His hand gripped her lower back.
He felt so good that she didn’t resist because her stupid body was stuck in the past, was living ten years ago when he alone was the one who could help her, who could free her, who could take away all the pain in one touch.
But he hadn’t, had he?
He’d caused more in his wake.
In his cruel exit.
She jammed a hand against his chest. His strong, firm chest that she knew intimately. The fucker. “I had reasons. Real reasons. Life anddeath reasons,” she said in a low hiss.
He shut his eyes briefly, looking pained. He sighed heavily, then somehow his arms were around her, and this time his touch wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t lustful. It was an embrace. From someone who knew nearly everything about her.
“Are you okay? Are you safe?” he asked in a whisper into her hair.
A tear had the audacity to slip out of her eye. To slide down her cheek, and fall onto his shoulder. It was a Pavlovian reaction. Too many tears had fallen on that shoulder.
“Yes,” she said quietly, with a nod. “I am. It’s fine. It’s all fine.”
He pulled back, tucked a hand under her chin, and lifted her face. She was so close to him she could trace the outline of his jaw, could run the pad of her finger over his stubble, his unbearably sexy eight-o-’clock shadow. She could drag her fingernails through his hair, soft, thick strands that simply had belonged between her hands.
She could look in his eyes as he moved in her, those deep, soulful eyes that understood her. Somehow, he was rough and gentle, he was charming and fierce, he was funny and dirty. He was the man she’d wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
“Are you sure?” he asked, so much tenderness and worry in his tone.
She gathered herself, and willed that obstinate organ in her chest to stop beating in double time. She informed her traitorous body to stop trembling just from being near him. “Yes. I’m sure.”
He let her go. He tipped his forehead back to the bar. “I should get back out there. They’ll start wondering. See you in a few.”
And he walked away.
Just like the last time she’d seen him.
She pressed her lips together, and breathed out hard. She pushed open the ladies room door, walked to the sink, dropped her hands onto the cool tile and let out the longest, hardest breath. She hoped to hell this was the only time she’d have to deal with Brent Nichols.
When she was near to him like that, she couldn’t think straight. She could only feel. And that was far too dangerous for her heart.
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A #1 New York Times Bestselling, #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling, and #1 Audible Bestselling author, Lauren Blakely is known for her contemporary romance style that’s sweet, sexy and witty. She also writes red-hot, sexy romance and USA Today bestselling LGBTQ romance. With fourteen New York Times bestsellers, her titles have appeared on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Lists more than 100 times, with more than 55 titles on the USA Today Bestsellers list alone. She’s sold more than 4.5 million books. A graduate of Brown University, Lauren likes dogs, cake and show tunes and she is the vegetarian at your dinner party.
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