One Hot Night Old Port Nights, Book 1 (10 page)

“Is that a problem?”

He pulled back, looking at her in shocked delight, before kissing her again.

“Oh, man, sweetheart,” he said against her lips. “As much as I want to violate several health codes right here and now on this bar, I also want to be the only one who gets to see you this way. Only me.”

Audra thrilled at the possessiveness in his voice, and nodded. “I agree. Upstairs?”

They ran like kids to Scott’s apartment, sharing kisses and undressing him piece-by-piece as they went. By the time they got inside his door, they were both naked and more than ready.

Scott looped his arms around her and picked her up, carrying her to his huge leather couch. As he set her down gently, Audra was sure she’d never forget how he looked at her. Like she was his. All his.

Or like he was the luckiest man on earth, when she was the lucky one.

Lifting one leg up over the back of the sofa, she started to lower her hand to touch herself, to let him watch, but he stopped her.

“No. I want to.”

The roughness of his voice was one more turn-on as he knelt down at her side and slid his fingers in-between her thighs, parting her and touching her like he knew she liked. Hot shards of pleasure seemed to fly from his fingers as he stroked her, making her wet, making her writhe and want to come, but he took her to the edge and didn’t let her go over.

Evil man.

“Scott, please.”

“Tell me your plan,” he said, mischief in his voice as he lowered his head to trail kisses along the inside of her thigh.

Her eyes flew open. “You’re joking.”

He dove a little deeper, flicking his tongue out to catch her clit with the tip, ripping a moan from her chest.

“Not joking. I want to know. Keep talking.”

Audra stared at the ceiling as he kissed and sucked, but only enough to keep her simmering, not letting her boil over.

“Okay, well, it’s simple really. I’d like my own—oh, Scott…that’s good—”

“You’d like your own what?”

Clearing her thoughts, she decided two could play this game and reached down to find his cock, stroking lightly. He cursed under his breath as he pushed into her touch.

“I may go into business with Deb, if we can figure out how to make that happen, you know, combining the book and antique business,” she managed, her breath catching as he dove a finger inside her, and another. “But for now, I can sell online, and put—um, oh God…”

“Good plan so far,” he murmured against her skin.

Audra spoke more quickly and stroked him more quickly, feeling the tension coil in her belly.

“But then I thought I could do that with other businesses here—like the bakery or restaurants—sell items relevant to their businesses through their establishments, or even to them, of décor, etc. And…”

Audra closed her eyes, twisting to find his hand and get it where she needed it, but he moved to evade her. She groaned and reached deeper to stroke his balls, making him jerk forward into her touch.

“And?”

“And…I can’t remember, Scott. I need you. I’m not saying anything else until you get inside me.”

“With pleasure, honey.” He smiled as he rose from her side and lowered over her.

As he teased her entrance, he rubbed his mouth on her jaw, trailing little kisses to her lips.

“It sounds like a wonderful plan. Smart lady. I can’t wait to build a display where you can sell your sports items in the bar.”

Audra cried out as he thrust forward, filling her. She opened wider, wanting him as deep as possible, and then deeper still.

“That would be nice,” she agreed breathlessly. “I think it’s going to work. It will bring in new customers for those businesses too, perhaps, as well as building my clientele.”

They weren’t talking about the business anymore, or at least, not only that. Scott banded his arms around her, holding her tightly to him as he thrust inside her, pushing them both to the edge and over within a few minutes. Audra was still shaking from the strength of the climax—and already wanting more.

And she intended to have it. All of it. No more closing off the possibilities, in her business or her personal life.

“You wreck me, Audra. No one has ever made me feel like you do. I missed you so much, sweetheart, I can’t even tell you. Please tell me you planned to spend the night, because I’m not letting you leave this time.”

He was still holding her next to him, still planted deep, looking at her as he said the words, and she felt every one of them in her heart. Audra nodded as she framed his face with her hands, stopping the conversation with a kiss as he stirred deep inside. She’d been afraid of life for so long but not anymore. Not with Scott.

“I know. I missed you too. I can’t wait to spend a lot more nights with you—and days. To see what we have ahead of us, together.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” he said, and there was no more need for conversation for quite some time.

About the Author

Samantha Hunter lives in Syracuse, New York, where they have very cold winters, so she likes to write hot books! When she’s not plotting her next book, Sam spends time on numerous hobbies and crafts and enjoys traveling and spending time with her husband and their pets. She’s also an unapologetic TV addict. If you would like to learn more about her books, current releases and news, please check out her website at
www.samanthahunter.com
. You can also email her at
[email protected]
and look for her on Twitter and Facebook.

Look for these titles by Samantha Hunter

Now Available:

Tight Quarters

Bending Over Backwards

They both lost everything, and then they found each other.

Bending Over Backwards

© 2013 Samantha Hunter

Jasmine Stanford has to be the most stressed-out yoga instructor on Cape Cod. Years after a childhood trauma left her penniless, homeless and parentless, working hard to maintain her hard-won success and security is all she knows.

Controlling her carefully rebuilt life is Jasmine’s first priority, and there’s no room or time in it for sexy former stockbroker Leo Fischer. But the more Leo comes around, the more Jasmine feels her resolve crumbling.

Leo is—or was—a hotshot investment banker until a workplace tragedy wiped out his memory and his career. On Cape Cod to recover, he’s at loose ends, his future uncertain…until Jasmine becomes his north star. But their relationship is only physical, and Jasmine keeps her distance, even when she’s as close to him as any woman can be.

Jasmine is anything but indifferent to the desire exploding between them. A summer fling was fine when she thought Leo would return to New York. But she’s falling hard—and the last thing she wants to catch her is the past…

Warning:
 
This book contains a wounded hero hotter than a summer sun and sex in very flexible positions.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Bending Over Backwards:

Leo Fischer stopped to run a hand along the edge of the massive bookshelf that he’d placed in the center of the room, measuring his progress as he removed the layers of paint and rough edges from the old, beat-up wood.

Getting there. Not bad, anyway, for a guy who’d never wielded sandpaper in his life. A spark of satisfaction lit down deep, filling a need. A gap. The space left empty when he’d lost his work. He hadn’t been a woodworker, but an investment broker.

Once, his investing must have given him the same sense of satisfaction, perhaps, but he couldn’t remember it. Not even a flicker.

He had what the doctors called a
dissociative fugue
, a form of amnesia. His memory hadn’t been completely wiped out, selectively so. As if someone had flipped a breaker on his brain that shut off the power in only one room. The one that housed any memory of his work.

Leo knew who he was and where he lived. He knew everything about his life—except for his work, how to do it, and anything or anyone associated with it. He’d awakened in the hospital with absolutely no idea why he was there.

From what he heard and read in the news, that was perhaps a lucky thing too. A former client who had suffered some big losses had come into the office with a gun. Leo didn’t remember any of it, though the pain in his shoulder reminded him.

He didn’t recognize the people whose funerals he attended, nor his boss or any of the survivors. He couldn’t make any sense of stock prices or financial news on TV, not any more than your average person could. It was all gone. Or, buried. Deep.

The doctors said the fugue could lift at any time or not at all. The brain was a funny thing.

Leo didn’t
feel
like an investment banker, but the proof was all there. He had the midtown Manhattan condo, the closet full of suits and the bank account to prove it. There were pictures of him on the office walls for hitting various investment records and all of the files on his computer. His boss, Neal, who owned this beach house, said he was in line to make associate partner sooner than later. He’d told Leo to use the beach house for as long as he needed to when the psychologist said maybe getting out of town would help.

So here he was.

Leo wondered if maybe he didn’t want to remember. Some things were better to forget? The news reports, the pictures in the paper, seeing the anguish of people in the aftermath, were all bad enough.

Except that now he was drifting somewhere between his past and his future, waiting for one or the other to take shape. How long did he wait?

Heading into the shower, he shaved and pulled on some cargo shorts and a white tee shirt. He’d had to buy a bunch of new clothes. Back in New York, except for some workout clothes and one pair of designer jeans, all he had were suits. How sad was that?

He didn’t even like suits. He wasn’t sure he remembered how to tie a tie. His ruminating stopped when he walked back to the deck and
she
was there.

She stood facing the water and the sun, and then started moving gracefully, working through a routine of poses he knew was yoga.

Watching this woman move was extraordinary. Everything so smooth, easy and precise, seemingly timed with the waves hitting the shore. Her copper hair broke loose from its coil and moved around her face, the wind making her part of the scene. The body-hugging, scant yoga gear she wore drove his imagination wild—not that he needed much imagination. He could make out every curve, every contour of her lovely shape.

Desire, he realized, was still alive somewhere down deep in his blood; at least that hadn’t died inside of him.

His last sexual encounter made him frown. A blur of limbs and release, but nothing that made any lasting impression. He couldn’t remember the name of the woman he’d been with.

Looking at the woman on the beach, sex was all he could think about. It made him feel alive, normal. He grasped on to that. There was life somewhere, waiting for him.

As usual, one by one her group would show up. Some older, some younger. Men, women, heavy, thin. They all followed her as she helped them, correcting their posture.

He couldn’t hear her, but he wanted to. What did her voice sound like? Would it be as sensual as her moves, her shape? Or strong and steady like her stance?

She stood at the back of her group, suddenly turning to meet his gaze, as if she knew he was watching. He did the stupidest thing possible and put his hand up, offering a short wave.

She stared for another second and then looked away without returning his gesture.

He felt like an idiot.

Leo knew the routine as well as they did. There were moments he felt his muscles twitch in sympathetic movement, his body wanting to join in as his mind held it back.

Maybe it was time to change that. He’d been sitting in this house for two weeks, waiting for what? Waiting for his life to come back? He wasn’t even sure if he wanted it to. His shoulder ached all the time, and his physical therapist had urged him to do some kind of therapeutic exercise, including yoga.

He’d dismissed the idea until this moment.

Why not? Leo waited for the class to end, and when she was alone, he headed down to the beach.

Jasmine Stanford pretended to be busy packing up her gear, but she knew he was heading directly for her. It was inevitable, she supposed. He’d been up there gawking for the last week or so, eating his breakfast and enjoying the show.

Normally, she didn’t mind if people observed her classes, she even liked and encouraged it. She found a lot of new students that way, but she didn’t really care for serving as some trust-fund guy’s morning entertainment.

“Hi.”

It was him. She realized that he was right behind her.

She straightened, turning as she prepared to give him a quick brush-off—but stopped when she met his eyes. Jasmine had never seen quite that combination of brown and gold—caramel and chocolate—two of her favorite things. Any response choked in her throat. She couldn’t quite name it, but she could
feel
the emotion radiating through those gorgeous eyes. A deep sadness reached out and touched her.