Star Struck (34 page)

She flushed again under his gaze and she needed to calm the fire kindling between her legs. Seeing he held a Coors Light, she lifted her bottle in a toast. “To privacy.”

He smiled, his face lighting up as he did, causing another stir in Maddie’s nether parts. “To privacy.” He clinked her bottle then took a sip of his own. She watched as his mouth parted around the tip of the bottle and found herself imagining the feel of his full, firm lips, wondering what he’d taste like. Her tongue darted across her teeth at the thought.

“Tell me,” he said, setting his bottle down on the ground next to him. “What’s a hot, I mean, attractive woman like you doing at a party like this if you’re looking to be alone?”

Her heart raced at his shameless remark. “One could ask the same of you.”

“Yes, they could. It’s the question on everyone’s mind. But I asked first.”

“You aren’t full of yourself at all.”

He feigned seriousness. “No, not at all. If I was full of myself, we would be talking about me, but I’m trying to find out about you, so you should answer the question.”

Hot and charming. Delish.

“Well…” She wished she had some witty comeback. She settled on simply answering his question. “I was dragged here with Miss Bare-It-All over there.” She nodded toward Bree, who now only wore panties. “It’s supposed to be our graduation party.”

The man stiffened. “Graduation?”

She laughed. “From film school. Were you worried you were coming on to a teenager?”

He leaned back, distancing himself from Maddie. “Oh, you thought I was coming on to you?”

Crap!
Had the teasing only been in her mind? She opened her mouth to speak, but she stuttered. “Uh…”

He chuckled. “Relax. I was totally coming on to you.”

She raised a brow. “Really? Or are you just keeping me from being completely humiliated?”

“No, I really was hitting on you. Come on, it was incredibly obvious.”

“Yes, it was. Are you still hitting on me now? Or has the moment passed?”

“Oh, no, the moment hasn’t passed.” He cocked his head and his eyes travelled down her body again, lingering at her low neckline. “So…film school,” he said after a heat-filled moment. “What’s your area of interest?”

“Uh, uh, uh.” Maddie barely kept herself from a fit of nervous giggles. “You never told me why you were here.”

“That’s boring.”

“Impossible.”

“Okay, you really want to know? I was also dragged here. By some of the guys I work with.” He craned his neck, looking around the party. “I have no idea where they are. Nor would I tell you if I saw them because they might be more attractive than I am and I wouldn’t want to give myself unnecessary competition.”

Maddie let her own eyes explore his body. His casual white-and-black button-down shirt opened to mid-sternum and she could see serious pecs underneath. The bottom buttons also remained open and when he stretched his arms above his head—on purpose, no doubt—a patch of tight abs and a trail of hair peeked out. Yum, yum, and yum. “You don’t need to worry about competition.”

“Seriously? Then I’m doing okay?”

“You’re doing just fine.” She locked eyes with him, and thoughts of him naked above her flashed through her mind. Blushing, she looked away.

“So…” she said, raising her eyebrows. Was she really flirting like this with a stranger?

“So, you never told me what area of film you studied.”

As a rule, Maddie stayed away from this conversation with people she’d just met. Saying you graduated from film school in L.A. was like saying you had breakfast. It was a dull, overdone topic. But this subject was safer than her fantasy thoughts and the man’s assertiveness easily drew the answer out. “Screenwriting.”

He nodded.

“And directing.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Hmm, now that would be fun.”

“Directing?”

“Being directed by you.”

Her eyes widened. She quickly finished off her Corona, attempting to calm her nerves. How on earth did this stranger manage to fluster her like that? Turn her inside out so easily?

She played with the label of her empty bottle as she fought to stay on solid ground, steering away from his innuendo. “Yeah, so directing is my thing. But, of course, it’s difficult to break into that biz, so I’m interested in all things film at the moment. Sound, camera, you name it. Screenwriting just fell in the mix because when you’re a kid growing up wanting to direct, you had to have material to direct so you could practice. I’ve got three full-length films under my belt—indies—but still…and I start an internship with an amazing film crew on Monday.” She stopped, realizing she was babbling.

“I’m intrigued.” He took the bottle from her and set it on the grass next to his.

Without the bottle in her hands, she felt vulnerable. And was he sitting closer than he was a moment ago? She returned to her jabber, unable to organize her thoughts. “It’s really not that interesting. I’ll be a production assistant, the lowest of—”

“That’s not what I’m intrigued with,” he interrupted, his voice husky.

Maddie met his eyes and saw a flicker of desire. He wanted her—it was obvious. Why not? For one night, why not live carefree?

She tilted her head toward him and braved herself to tempt his seduction. “Then tell me, what is intriguing you?”

In one swift move, he had her pressed against the wall, his mouth hovering above her own. The rough stone behind her barely registered as she licked her lips in anticipation of the kiss she knew was coming.

One scorching-hot lesson could leave her begging for more.

Surrender to Fire

© 2014 Skylar Kade

The Maison Chronicles, Book 3

Reeling from the double whammy of her Dom’s abandonment, and accusations of colluding with a plagiarizing author, all literary agent Camille Winter wants is some low-profile, drama-free quality time.

Just as she’s settling into a Maison Domine cabin with her to-be-read pile and a full slate of spa appointments, she finds herself sweet talked into playing topless assistant so some Dominant can run a BDSM educational demo.

Architect Damien Winter is on a relationship hiatus, so he focuses his dominant energies on teaching BDSM classes. A chance encounter in Maison’s parking lot with a woman who angrily insists she’s no sub—though every line of her body screams otherwise—turns shocking when she winds up as temporary replacement for his demonstration partner.

Damien is unprepared for the way her beautiful submission gets under his skin. And Camille never thought she’d fall, hard, for just the kind of man she’s sworn off. But when her ex’s vague threats turn serious, Damien fears he’s already lost the chance to claim her for his own.

Warning: This book contains a fiery woman burned one too many times and the Dom who entices her to submit to the heat between them.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Surrender to Fire:

Three hours later, he was on his way up to Maison Domine. With his smartphone calling out directions, he could keep all his focus on the scenery and the satellite rock station he was piping through his speakers. The freeways of LA weren’t much for the view, but once he hit the mountains…
wow
. It was like the trees drained away all his tension. Or maybe he was relaxing because he was closer to sating his needs.

After missing the turnoff the first time he drove by, Damien pulled a U-turn and crept back down the road until he saw the weathered wood sign with an arrow pointing up a narrow, tree-lined road.

His car rolled down the long drive, soundtracked by Guns N’ Roses’ “Welcome to the Jungle”, then burst into a wide-open clearing with a jaw-dropping view of the surrounding mountains. A large rustic structure took up the right half of the clearing, with most of the rest devoted to parking. More cars filled the lot than he’d expected for a Friday afternoon, but if other Angelinos had had weeks like his, maybe it wasn’t that big a surprise.

Parking his car, he wondered what the large building held. Yes, he’d heard other kinksters rave about the private club, but he’d been to his fair share of upscale establishments before. What set this one apart?

The answer sauntered across the parking lot, seeming to come from nowhere and heading for the front door. The woman’s body hit him like a wrecking ball. Every sense went on high alert and his heart jacked up its beat.

Jet-black hair spilled around her shoulders in soft curls, obscuring her face. Her arms were crossed as she walked, as if warding off the mild day’s nonexistent cold. Slumping shoulders drew more attention to the beautiful hourglass shape of her back, her body encased in a flowing, black dress that clung in all the right places. She looked tall, maybe eye level to his chin, though maybe that was her black combat boots. Not fragile—supple. Warm.

And crying. Her shoulders were shaking as she turned away from the building, facing him head-on. His demolition experts had nothing on that look. He wanted to kiss her reddened nose, wipe the tears from under her eyes. He popped open his door and headed for her.

The woman’s eyes widened and she froze, a deer in the headlights.

Car door open, keys still in the ignition, nothing mattered but this woman. He approached slowly, not wanting to alarm her. “Are you okay?” His voice echoed through the parking lot, though they weren’t that far apart.

The dress swirled around her knees, tossed by the wind whipping around the mountaintop. The soft neckline of her dress draped around her full breasts. His palms itched to cup them.

She nodded, letting her hair once again hide her face, which looked like it was made of the finest bone china. “Shitty week.”

He took a few steps closer, then paused. He saw faint tan lines on her wrist, barely there, that looked like she’d been wearing a bracelet cuff for some time. “Is he really worth crying over?”

Her pink lips clamped shut, then opened. “Look, thanks for your concern, but, really, it’s none of your business.” She swiped aside her hair to reveal twilight-blue eyes cracking with anger.

Her defiance stroked down his chest and reached for his growing erection. “I’m sorry, but when I see a submissive alone and crying, I make it my business.” He invaded her personal space until she had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes, but she didn’t back up. All traces of her dejection were gone. Good.

The wind pulled at her curls as she jabbed a finger in his chest, like she was digging straight for his racing heart. “I’m not a submissve.”

Her nails weren’t painted or manicured, not high maintenance like many women he’d dated. He found it refreshing. Authentic, like her anger. “Not a submissive?” He grabbed the hand that had poked him and raised her wrist to the light. Her pupils dilated and her breathing tightened. Her tongue darted out across her bottom lip and Damien had to restrain a groan. His thumb stroked along her inner wrist where her pulse was jumping like a living thing trying to escape. “How long did you wear his ownership bracelet while you weren’t a submissive?”

She tugged at her wrist. A halfhearted attempt, since her other hand was clenched halfway to touching him. Being the ever-helpful Dominant, he closed the space between them, pulling her wrist up to his lips and laying a kiss on the pale flesh of her pulse point.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.

In response, he let her go and stepped back. “I’m proving a point.”

She swayed toward him before scowling and taking her own shuffle backward.

Her cocked eyebrow made him ache to play her until she begged to submit. She was a sassy thing and they had some chemistry crackling between them—something he certainly didn’t have with Lara, his demo bottom. “If you’re not a submissive, then I’m the Pope.”

“That’s your point?” Her jaw ticced and when her hands fisted on her hips, it made her dress strain across her breasts. She looked beautiful when angry.

Through sheer force of will he held his ground, keeping the distance between them. “No, sweetheart, the point was that you’re not crying anymore.”

Her eyes spit every insult her lips seemed unable to form. It only made his cock harder. He replied with his most guileless smile, which only seemed to infuriate her. With a clench-jawed scream, she pivoted away and headed for the woods.

“See you later,” he called as she retreated. Yeah, coming up to Maison Domine early had been a good idea. He’d need the extra time to learn more about this mystery “not a submissive” woman.

Star Struck

Laurelin Paige

Onto every diva’s backside, a little wood must fall.

Lights, Camera, Book 2

Hollywood actress Heather Wainwright was looking forward to a long, relaxing break before starting her next shoot. Except her assistant volunteered her for L.A.’s annual 24 Hour Plays.

Nervous about doing a good job for such a worthy charity, Heather falls back on “diva” mode, a defense mechanism that always carries her through. Until she encounters something that
really
gets on her nerves—a lowly carpenter whose Norse god eyes pierce right through her.

Highly sought-after production designer Seth Rafferty has little patience for A-listers with superior attitudes, which is why his attraction to Heather is absurd. Yet, sensing vulnerability beneath her screen-queen act, he lets her assumptions play out.