This week’s theme is “Be My Baby” and I have a scene from my recent release (doesn’t that just sound dirty?) that I’d like to share. Sure, Tommy Triplehorn’s “Be My Baby” avowal isn’t wrapped in a pretty pink bow, but it’s effective, don’t you think? Besides, I love a man who knows what he wants and isn’t gonna suffer any fools!
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When two lonely hearts collide, age becomes just a number.
Sarah Colby’s marriage was over long ago, but she’s never shed the scars her abusive husband left behind. Add the one shameful indiscretion from her past, an affair with a much younger man, and she’s haunted by that long ago summer.
Tommy Triplehorn is happy his brothers have settled down and started families of their own, but he’s feeling a little smothered by all that domesticity. Carousing and drinking no longer holds a thrill, and he thinks he knows the reason why. He’s waited long enough for Sarah Colby to get over being ashamed of their shared past. He’s old enough to know what he wants, and he wants her.
Warning: A cowboy on a mission to seduce will do whatever it takes, including offering his woman a no-holds-barred weekend of sex, even a ménage with a friend, to prove he’ll fulfill her every sexy need…
Sarah heard the slamming of a vehicle door in the distance and wondered who it might be coming this late at night.
When she opened her front door and stepped out under the porch, her eyes widened on the figure stomping through her grass. “Tommy?”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even appear to be looking at her. His head was down, the brim of his hat hiding his face, but the clenched fists were telling.
Her heart stopped and then sluggishly began thudding in her chest. She backed up toward her door, reaching behind her for the knob.
Tommy stomped up the steps, his boots slamming against the wood, until he stood in front of her, gazing down with his storm-cloud eyes. “You didn’t call,” he said, his voice gruff.
Tommy angry was different from Paul Colby in a snit. Something she shouldn’t have to remind herself about. She let go of the knob and leaned back against the wood, staring up into the face she’d dreamed about every night when she’d laid in her bed alone. “You didn’t call,” she said softly, repeating his words.
Moisture filled his eyes and he glanced away blinking. “It was your choice. It was always your choice. Either you accepted me, or you used that weekend to get me out of your system. I waited for your call.”
Sarah dropped her head, wanting to hide her face so he couldn’t see her expression, couldn’t guess what a coward she’d been. He’d been so proud of her that weekend, loving the fact she’d let go of her fears and inhibitions. But the moment she’d come back home, she’d been assailed with doubts.
Caldera wasn’t Abilene. People knew them both. And there was the fact she hadn’t been completely honest with him about the baggage she’d bring to their marriage. The fact she was barren.
“I was afraid,” she whispered. “Afraid that I wouldn’t be strong enough to tell you, or if I told you that you would brush away the truth like it didn’t matter, when I know it will.”
Tommy stepped closer, so close his boots touched hers and his chest crowded against her breasts. When he looked down, the intensity of his stare nearly shredded her resolve. She wanted nothing more than to melt against him, cling to him. She wanted him to carry her inside and tear the clothes from her body. She wanted him deep inside her, her body wrapped around him while he plunged toward her center, baring her heart.
“I can’t give you children,” she said, tears blinding her. “I can’t get pregnant—not without a lot of medical intervention, and even then…”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said gruffly, pressing closer, his hands landing on the sandstone wall behind her.
She smacked his shoulders and shoved against him. “Of course it matters!” she cried brokenly. “It matters,” she whispered, then slid down, only to be propped up by the thigh he pushed between her legs.
“You’re out of excuses,” he whispered.
“Excuses?” She dashed away her tears with the back of a hand.
“Yeah, never heard such whinin’—too old, barren—you make it sound like all you have to offer a man is your cunt and your womb.”
She gasped. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me, Sarah Colby. I’m not buyin’ it. Your little pity party has cost me nearly a month of lost sleep. My dick’s raw from me rubbin’ on it because I can’t get you out of my head.” Read the rest of this entry »