Torn: A Billionaire Bachelors Club Novel (21 page)
Read Torn: A Billionaire Bachelors Club Novel Online
Authors: Monica Murphy
Continue reading for a sneak peek at the final book in Monica Murphy’s hot
Billionaire Bachelors Club series
SAVOR
Coming in January 2014 from Avon Impulse.
Bryn
“I
SHOULDN’T DO
this.” He’s coming right at me, one determined step after another, and I slowly start to back up, fear and excitement bubbling up inside me, making it hard to think clearly.
“Shouldn’t do what?”
I lift my chin, my gaze meeting his, and I see all the turbulent, confusing emotions in his eyes, the grim set of his jaw and usually lush mouth. The man means business—what sort of business I’m not exactly sure, but I can take a guess. Increasing my pace, I take hurried backward steps to get away from all that handsome intensity coming at me until my butt meets the wall.
I’m trapped. And in the best possible place too.
“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all night,” he practically growls, stopping just in front of me.
I have
? I want to ask, but I keep my lips clamped tight. He never seems to notice me, not that I ever really want him to. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself. That sort of thing usually brings too much unwanted attention. I’ve dealt with that sort of trouble before, and it nearly destroyed me.
The more time I spend with my boss though, the more I want him to see me. Really see me as a woman. Not the dependable, efficiently organized Miss James who makes his life so much easier.
I want Matt to see me as a woman. A woman he wants.
Playing with fire . . .
The thought floating through my brain is apt, considering the potent heat in Matt’s gaze.
“I don’t understand how I could be, considering I’ve done nothing but work my tail off the entire evening,” I retort, wincing the moment the words leave me. I blame my mounting frustration over our situation. I’m tired, I’ve done nothing but live and breathe this winery opening for the last few weeks, and I’m ready to go home and crawl into bed. Pull the covers over my head and sleep for a month.
But if a certain someone wanted to join me in my bed, there wouldn’t be any sleeping involved. Just plenty of nakedness and kissing and hot, delicious sex . . .
My entire body flushes at the thought.
“And I appreciate you working that pretty tail of yours off for me. Though I’d hate to see it go,” he drawls, his gaze dropping low. Like he’s actually trying to check out my backside. His flirtatious tone shocks me, rendering me still.
Our relationship isn’t like this. Strictly professional is how Matt and I keep it between us. But that last remark was most definitely what I would consider flirting. And the way he’s looking at me . . .
Oh. My.
My cheeks warm when he stops directly in front of me. I can feel his body heat, smell his intoxicating scent, and I press my lips together to keep from saying something really stupid.
God, I want you. So bad my entire body aches for your touch.
Yeah. I sound like those romance novels I used to devour when I had more time to freaking read. I always thought those emotions were so exaggerated. No way could what happens in a romance novel actually occur in real life.
But I’m feeling it. Right now. With Matthew DeLuca. And the way he’s looking at me almost makes me think he might be feeling it too.
“So um, h-how have I been driving you crazy?” I swallow hard. I sound like a stuttering idiot, and I’m trying to calm my racing heart but it’s no use. We’re staring at each other in silence, the only sound our accelerated breathing, and then he reaches out. Rests his fingers against my cheek. Lets them drift along my face.
Slowly I close my eyes and part my lips, sharp pleasure piercing through me at his intimate touch. I curl my fingers against the wall as if I can grab onto it, afraid I might slide to the ground if I don’t get a grip and soon. I can smell him. Feel him. We’ve been close to each other before, but not like this. Never like this.
“You look so damn beautiful tonight,” he whispers, his rough voice sending a scatter of goose bumps across my skin.
“Thank you.” I crack open my eyes to find he’s moved even closer, one hand braced against the wall, the other still touching my face. Tilting my head back, I meet his gaze, my lids flickering when he strokes his thumb across my lower lip.
“It’s taking everything inside of me not to just give in and kiss you,” he admits gruffly, his hot eyes roaming over my face, then dropping lower, settling on my chest. I can feel my nipples tighten beneath the silk fabric of my dress and I’m suddenly, achingly aware of what little clothing I’m wearing. No bra, no panties . . .
My dress is the only barrier between Matt’s hands and my skin.
“What’s stopping you?” I reach out, slip my fingers down the length of his black tie. I can’t believe I just said that. I can’t believe I’m touching him, though really I’m only caressing his tie. Big deal.
But I can feel all that hot, hard strength beneath his shirt, the beat of his heart, the scent of his skin. Relief floods me. We’ve been dancing around this attraction for months and it feels like we’re finally giving in. Well, I’ve been dancing around it. He always seemed mostly oblivious to me.
Maybe he isn’t. If his current behavior is any indication, he definitely isn’t.
“
I’m
stopping me. Or at least I should be,” he says, resting both of his hands on my waist as he steps so close, our legs tangle, our chests brush. I hold my breath, waiting for what I know will be a totally disappointing answer.
He doesn’t answer at all. Instead, he lowers his head, his mouth settling on mine, softly. Sweetly. His kiss obliterates everything, all of my thoughts, until I’m consumed with the sound and the feel and the smell of him. He surrounds me, consumes me, and when he thrusts his tongue deep inside my mouth, I’m lost.
And only Matt will be able to find me.
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author MONICA MURPHY is a native Californian who lives in the foothills below Yosemite. A wife and mother of three, she writes new adult and contemporary romance. Visit her online at www.monicamurphyauthor.com and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/MonicaMurphyAuthor.
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The Billionaire Bachelors Club Series
New Adult
Second Chance Boyfriend
One Week Girlfriend
Give in to your impulses . . .
Read on for a sneak peek at four brand-new
e-book original tales of romance from Avon Books.
Available now wherever e-books are sold.
By Lizbeth Selvig
B
OOK
F
OUR:
T
HE
H
UNT
ED
S
ERIES
By Jennifer Ryan
A
D
IAMOND
S AND
D
UGOUTS
N
OVEL
By Jennifer Seasons
A
N
E
ROTIC
N
OVELLA
By Sabrina Darby
An Excerpt from
by Lizbeth Selvig
When a stranger arrives in town on a vintage motorcycle, Jill Carpenter has no idea her life is about to change forever. She never expected that her own personal knight in shining armor would be an incredibly charming and handsome southern man—but one with a deep secret. When Jill’s dreams of becoming an Olympic equestrian start coming true, Chase’s past finally returns to haunt him. Can they get beyond dreams to find the love that will rescue their two hearts? Find out in the follow-up to
The Rancher and the Rock Star
.
“A
ngel?” Jill called. “C’mon, girl. Let’s go get you something to eat.” She’d responded to her new name all evening. Jill frowned.
Chase gave a soft, staccato, dog-calling whistle. Angel stuck her head out from a stall a third of the way down the aisle. “There she is. C’mon, girl.”
Angel disappeared into the stall.
“Weird,” Jill said, heading down the aisle.
At the door to a freshly bedded empty stall, they found Angel curled beside a mound of sweet, fragrant hay, staring up as if expecting them.
“Silly girl,” Jill said. “You don’t have to stay here. We’re taking you home. Come.”
Angel didn’t budge. She rested her head between her paws and gazed through raised doggy brows. Chase led the way into the stall. “Everything all right, pup?” He stroked her head.
Jill reached for the dog, too, and her hand landed on Chase’s. They both froze. Slowly he rotated his palm and wove his fingers through hers. The few minor fireworks she’d felt in the car earlier were nothing compared to the explosion now detonating up her arm and down her back.
“I’ve been trying to avoid this since I got off that dang horse.” His voice cracked into a low whisper.
“Why?”
He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Because I am not a guy someone as young and good as you are should let do this.”
“You’ve saved my life and rescued a dog. Are you trying to tell me I should be
worried
about you?”
She touched his face, bold enough in the dark to do what light had made her too shy to try.
“Maybe.”
The hard, smooth fingertips of his free hand slid inexorably up her forearm and covered the hand on his cheek. Drawing it down to his side, he pulled her whole body close, and the little twister of excitement in her stomach burst into a thousand quicksilver thrills. Her eyelids slipped closed, and his next question touched them in warm puffs of breath.
“If I were to kiss you right now, would it be too soon?”
Her eyes flew open, and she searched his shadowy gaze, incredulous. “You’re asking permission? Who does that?”
“Seemed like the right thing.”
“Well, permission granted. Now hush.”
She freed her hands, placed them on his cheeks, roughened with beard stubble, and rose on tiptoe to meet his mouth while he gripped the back of her head.
The soft kiss nearly knocked her breathless. Chase dropped more hot kisses on each corner of her mouth and down her chin, feathered her nose and her cheeks, and finally returned to her mouth. Again and again he plied her bottom lip with his teeth, stunning her with his insistent exploration. The pressure of his lips and the clean, masculine scent of his skin took away her equilibrium. She could only follow the motions of his head and revel in the heat stoking the fire in her belly.
He pulled away at last and pressed parted lips to her forehead.
An Excerpt from
Book Four: The Hunted Series
by Jennifer Ryan
Morgan Standish can see things other people can’t. She can see the past and future. These hidden gifts have prevented her from getting close to anyone—except FBI agent Tyler Reed. Morgan is connected to him in a way even she can’t explain. She’s solved several cases for him in the past, but will her gifts be enough to bring down a serial killer whose ultimate goal is to kill her? Find out in Book Four of The Hunted Series.
M
organ’s fingers flew across the laptop keyboard propped on her knees. She took a deep breath, cleared her mind, and looked out past her pink-painted toes resting on the railing and across her yard to the densely wooded area at the edge of her property. Her mind’s eye found her guest winding his way through the trees. She still had time before Jack stepped out of the woods separating her land from his. She couldn’t wait to meet him.
Images, knowings, they just came to her. She’d accepted that part of herself a long time ago. As she got older, she’d learned to use her gift to seek out answers.
She finished her buy-and-sell orders and switched from her day trading page to check her psychic website and read the questions submitted by customers. She answered several quickly, letting the others settle in her mind until the answers came to her.
One stood out. The innocuous question about getting a job held an eerie vibe.
The familiar strange pulsation came over her. The world disappeared, as though a door had slammed on reality. The images came to her like hammer blows, one right after the other, and she took the onslaught, knowing something important needed to be seen and understood.
An older woman lying in a bed, hooked up to a machine feeding her medication. Frail and ill, she had translucent skin and dark circles marring her tortured eyes. Her pain washed over Morgan like a tsunami.
The woman yelled at someone, her face contorted into something mean and hateful. An unhappy woman—one who’d spent her whole life blaming others and trying to make them as miserable as she was.
A pristine white pillow floating down, inciting panic, amplified to terror when it covered the woman’s face, her frail body swallowed by the sheets.
Morgan had an overwhelming feeling of suffocation.
The woman tried desperately to suck in a breath, but couldn’t. Unable to move her lethargic limbs, she lay petrified and helpless under his unyielding hands. Lights flashed on her closed eyelids.
Death came calling.
A man stood next to the bed, holding the pillow like a shield. His mouth opened on a contorted, evil, hysterical laugh that rang in her ears and made her skin crawl. She squeezed her eyes closed to blot out his malevolent image and thoughts.
Murderer!
The word rang in her head as the terrifying emotions overtook her.
Morgan threw up a wall in her mind, blocking the cascade of disturbing pictures and feelings. She took several deep breaths and concentrated on the white roses growing in profusion just below the porch railing. Their sweet fragrance filled the air. With every breath, she centered herself and found her inner calm, pushing out the anger and rage left over from the vision. Her body felt like a lead weight, lightening as her energy came back. The drowsiness faded with each new breath. She’d be fine in a few minutes.
The man on horseback emerged from the trees, coming toward her home. Her guest had arrived.
Focused on the computer screen, she slowly and meticulously typed her answer to the man who had asked about a job and inadvertently opened himself up to telling her who he really was at heart.
She replied simply:
You’ll get the job, but you can’t hide from what you did.
You need help. Turn yourself in to the police.
