The idea of Emily’s betrayal slices through me, a wicked blade that is unforgiving. “Leave,” I order.
He gives an incline of his head and disappears, and I press my hands to the counter, letting my head dip low, my mother’s words coming back to me. Once someone is in your bed, they’re dangerously close to you. Watch your back with that woman.
“Shane.”
At the sound of Emily’s voice, I inhale and push off the counter, turning to find her standing in front of me. “It’s time to for some rules,” I say.
“Rules?” she asks, her voice quavering. “What rules?”
I grab her and turn us both, pressing her against the counter, my hands caging her in. “Hard rules. And hard rule number one is, no more lies.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LISA RENEE JONES is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than forty books across many romance genres—contemporary, romantic suspense, dark paranormal, and erotic fiction. Her books have been translated all around the world, and her highly acclaimed Inside Out series is now in development for cable television. She loves to hear from readers.
Hello readers!
Remember that super sexy balcony scene where Emily is pressed to the glass enclosed railing, afraid she will fall, but Shane manages to make her forget everything but HIM?! Well, I’m excited to share what was going on in her mind while Shane was pushing her limits and claiming more than her pleasure. This was when he started to claim her heart.
I hope you enjoy!
XOXO, Lisa
Emily …
Shane’s eyes glint with satisfaction at my agreement but he doesn’t release me. Instead, he spreads my arms until they align with the railing, his body draped over mine and my nipples rasping against the starched material of his shirt. He lingers there, pressed against me, his teeth scraping my shoulder. Tiny darts of pleasure shoot down my arm, intensified when he licks the offended area. I shut my eyes with the impact of a breeze rushing over me, and while it is chilly, it does nothing to cool all the places he’s made hot.
His lips traveled over the skin his teeth and tongue have already visited, to my neck, my jaw, and then settling a breath from my mouth, his breath a warm fan promising me a kiss he does not deliver. He lingers right there, teasing me, driving me crazy, his hands flexing over mine, as if in warning. A beat later, he releases them and me, putting a step between us, and leaving me free to let go of the railing, and I almost do but his withdrawal seems to be a message. He won’t touch me if I let go of the railing. My grip tightens on the steel beneath my palm, holding on the way I want him to hold on to me.
“Close your eyes,” he orders.
I blanch, already feeling exposed and vulnerable. “What?”
“Close your eyes, Emily.”
This time it’s a command and I have no idea why, but I not only willingly take the order, I’m wet and achy, and I want this man more than I have ever wanted anyone. My reward is the very thing I want most. Him touching me, anywhere, everywhere, and for now that means his hands cradling my neck. “Don’t open them or—”
“You’ll stop what you’re doing,” I supply.
His breath fans my ear. “I’m glad you understand.”
“You haven’t done anything to stop yet so I feel—”
He kisses me, a lush slide of his tongue against mine gone too soon. “You feel what?”
“Like I want you to kiss me again.”
“Not yet,” he says, and like his mouth, his hands are once again gone, but I can feel him close. I can feel him everywhere and nowhere. I know he is a lean away, a reach of my hands that might as well be bound. But then, I wouldn’t choose to give him control and I think … I think he is all about choices. I think I’ve given him more control than I’ve ever give anyone.
The air shifts abruptly and I know he is no longer as close as he was moments before. I listen for movement, and there are random, barely there sounds but nothing I can place. Is he undressing? I hope. Maybe? An array of sensations roll through me. Nerves. Eagerness. Arousal. I can barely take it. “Shane.”
“Open your eyes.”
I blink my eyes open and he’s sitting in front of me on a chair. Another blink and he’s moved it, and himself, closer. “Don’t let go of the railing,” he warns and I’ve barely processed that order before he’s cupping my backside and dragging me to his lap to straddle him, the angle forcing me to lean into the glass wall behind me.
Fear rushes through me, my pulse all over the place. “Shane, damn it. “What if the glass breaks?”
“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hand flattening on my belly. “It’s reinforced and there’s horizontal steel bands supporting it. I have you and I won’t let you go. Relax.”
I inhale and try to calm my body. “You’re sure it won’t break?”