Colors of Love (20 page)
Authors: Jess Dee
A “
tamasha
”, Avi had called it when they readied themselves this morning. Noise and silly business. “Hollywood films don’t have a
muhurat
,” he’d complained, finishing tying his tie and then moving on to helping her with the draping of her sari.
“You know what else Hollywood films don’t have, big shot?” She’d undone his tie, shoving him backwards towards their bed. “You.”
Avi had tangled one huge hand in her hair while his other unwound her sari, leaving her in nothing but blouse and petticoat. Silk pooled to the floor at her feet, like the softness already gathered between her thighs.
If they were ten minutes late, so be it. The
tamasha
would wait.
Sure,
The Raj
was Govind Joshi’s baby, his latest historical blockbuster, but only when she and Avi had signed on had the real buzz begun. They were Mumbai’s newest power couple, Bollywood’s sweethearts despite being so very spicy. They hadn’t done a film together since their marriage six years ago, and it was a coup to get them to sign on for Joshi’s project. So if that meant delaying the first shot…which was just an establishing interior of the old palatial mansion anyway…then the whole crew would just have to deal.
Their fashionably late, and slightly mussed, entrance had only been marred by one thing: two stragglers who had come even later.
Trish’s gaze flickered across the stage, where Harsh Mathur and Michael Gill were shaking hands with the music director. Avi’s hand tightened in hers, his thumb tracing filthy words on her skin. It was a trick he’d perfected over the years, smiling beatifically while spelling out, “I want to fuck you” against her palm or her wrist. Only this time, it wasn’t “I want to fuck you”, it was, “I want to fuck him”.
Him. Michael Gill. A model-turned-actor, he was half-British and half-Indian. People always seemed surprised at how fluent he was in Urdu and Hindi, not realizing he’d lived most of his life in Punjab. Those in the industry practically forgot he was English at all. His dark brown hair and dark eyes weren’t a dead giveaway, and his tan was just as much natural as it was a product of too much surfing. But he was a casting director’s dream, because he could play the Hindi-speaking Englishman with just as much ease as he could the fully Indian hero.
He was stunning; there was no denying it. He was also gay. There was no denying that either. Not with her husband sketching out his lurid list of sexual demands. But even her own pulse jumped at how Michael’s jeans hung tantalizingly low on his hips, as though they were about to fall off. Clothes were an afterthought on Michael Gill, and a crime against his body. Funny how not a single designer who’d clamored for him to walk their runway had figured that out.
Trish squeezed Avi’s fingers in warning. “Don’t be obvious, Avinash,” she chided as they crossed to greet their costars.
If Michael was stunning, then Harsh was beautiful. Green eyed, with long, black hair, it was he whom most people assumed was mixed and gay. He had the face of an angel and the body of a god.
Masala
magazine had conducted a poll of the hottest Bollywood heroes, and he’d easily beaten all the Khans, Michael and Avi to land the top spot. Harsh was the polar opposite of what his name meant in English, and the very definition of its Hindi meaning: happiness and delight. He was kind and generous. He never gossiped, never was the
subject
of gossip. He’d opened a girls’ school in his family’s ancestral village and funded a scholarship for low-caste orphans. He was practically a saint.
He’d always been too much of a saint for a sinner like her.
Her chest ached with sudden memory, and she shoved the pain deep down, back where it belonged. “Don’t be obvious, Trishna,” Avi mimicked, brushing a chaste kiss across her temple.
She wasn’t obvious. Of course not. She was a professional. When she warmly extended her hand to the man she’d been in love with since she was sixteen years old, it didn’t shake at all. Neither did her eyes betray what she was thinking, what she was
imagining
…
Colors of Love
Jess Dee
Their true colors are hidden…until one woman turns everything upside down.
Speed, Book 2
Seth Pace, guitarist of the rock band
Speed
, is a born dreamer, and nothing stands in his way of making those dreams a reality. Except when it comes to band manager Luke Struthers. He’s everything Seth wants in a partner, but even after five years of perfectly explosive sex, Luke refuses to commit.
After a childhood ravaged by abuse, Luke knows he’s a potential danger to anyone foolish enough to love him. Seth is safer without him, but Luke has no idea how to cut him loose painlessly. Until he spots Seth’s kind of woman—pretty, smart, friendly. The plan: seduce her into a sexy threesome, then leave the two alone to fall in love. Problem solved.
A night of excitement with the two hottest men on the planet? Yeah, baby! Yet Kaz’s inborn ability to read auras tells her something isn’t right. It’s obvious Seth and Luke are madly in love, but subtle clues in Luke’s aura signal he’s up to something. She’s not sure what, but if she doesn’t do something quick, the two men she’s quickly come to adore will wind up without the happily ever after they both deserve.
Warning: One man + one man + one woman = a whole lot of steamy two-way and three-way M/M & M/M/F sex, a hero or two to drool over, and a heroine who recognizes true love when she sees it.
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They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Colors of Love
Copyright © 2012 by Jess Dee
ISBN: 978-1-60928-930-0
Edited by Jennifer Miller
Cover by Kendra Egert
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: July 2012
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