She nodded, dry mouthed. “Look, this is a ridiculous way to talk. I should let you in, but I…”
“No.” The sudden harshness of his voice made her take a step back from the glass. “Don’t let me in if you have any doubts in your mind, because once you invite me in, I’m going to make love to you. It is the first thing I will do. We will not have dinner or a glass of wine first. We will not chit chat or watch a movie.
You let me in this door and I’m taking you. Understand that.”
Scared of him once again and scared of her own reactions to him, Helena took another step back and hugged herself. “Why are you like this?”
If looks could melt glass… “You were on the stoop with me. Answer yourself.”
Helena paced back and forth in front of the sliding glass door, chanting her inner mantra, Dang, oh dang, oh dang.
Since the first moment she’d laid eyes on him, she’d wanted him, and that was the truth of the matter.
He didn’t hide his desire, he was clear in his intentions. That was the difference between them. He told the truth while she waffled and flirted and lied and called the cops when things got too intense. So who wasn’t playing fair?
Let him in.
He’d probably talk to her though the door all night, but she didn’t know if she could do it. She couldn’t think. Hell, she could barely stand. Either she had to take him up on his offer or go lock herself in the closet.
She’d been thinking of him as caught on the deck, behind glass, but she was the one who was trapped.
He had all the world behind him.
I’m tired of being afraid.
Faustin leaned against the door while he waited for her answer, head down, palms flat against the glass as if he was thinking about pushing the door off its tracks. “I need you,” he said, almost too low to be heard.
Her breath caught in her throat. Frightened, she wrapped her arms around herself. That gentle pressure made her breasts ache and tingle. Her skin was oversensitive, stimulated by the soft knit of her sweater dress. She’d never been so aroused. Part of it was knowing a man wanted her that much. Another part was knowing that she’d have to risk her life to find out if her instincts were right. The instincts that told her to open the door.
Trust yourself.
He’s a public radio fan, for crap’s sake.
Do it.
Is Emma ready for a bite?
The Wallflower
? 2008 Dana Marie Bell
A Hunting Love story
Halle Puma Series, Book 1
Emma Carter has been in love with Max Cannon since high school, but he barely knew she existed.
Now she runs her own unique curio shop, and she’s finally come out her shell and into her own.
When Max returns to his small home town to take up his duties as the Halle Pride’s Alpha, he finds that shy little Emma has grown up. That small spark of something he’d always felt around the teenager has blossomed into something more—his mate!
Taking her “out for a bite” ensures that the luscious Emma will be permanently his.
But Max’s ex has plans of her own. Plans that don’t include Emma being around to interfere. To keep her Alpha, Emma must prove to the Pride that she has what it takes to be Max’s mate.
Warning: This title contains explicit sex, graphic language, loads of giggles and a hot, blond Alpha male.
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Wallflower:
Emma realized Max had stopped moving. Looking up at him, she found him staring down at her with a quizzical look. “Well?”
Emma blushed. She’d been rubbernecking in Max’s house, trying to take in everything at once. “It’s incredible.”
He smiled with satisfaction. “If there’s anything you want to change, you’ll have to let me know.”
Gently he placed her on the quilt. “This is now as much your house as mine.”
Emma’s mouth fell open as he toed off his shoes and socks. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Max began unbuttoning his shirt, diverting her attention from his whole “Mi casa es su casa” attitude.
“I was in Simon’s shop when you called about the Madonna, you know.”
“Oh. Really?” she replied absently. She could barely speak as Max unveiled the finest chest it had ever been her privilege to see. It was lightly sprinkled with light brown hairs, trailing down his stomach to point directly into his pants. Dark brown nipples peeped out from the hair, tempting her into some very sinful thoughts.
“Yes, I was. And you know what?”
Emma didn’t know her own name; Max was unbuttoning his jeans. “Um, nope.”
“You live up to your voice,” Max purred as he slipped his jeans down his legs.
“Urgh,” Emma choked, “naked.” She could feel her eyes bugging out of her head. Max went commando. A sinful buffet of man-flesh was laid out before her in one single sweep of his hands. She didn’t know whether to sigh or to sob.
“Yes, I am.” Max laughed huskily. “Now it’s your turn.”