Hot August Nights
Published by: eXtasy Books
Author : Evelyn Starr
Word Count :70000
Publication Date :2010-08-24
Series : #
Heat Level :
- Product Code: 978-1-55487-200-8
Tannie Hogan's always had a thing for bad boys. And Bax Dixon looks like the baddest of the bad!
Tannie’s sister has gone and married a jerk and Tannie wants to get her back. To rescue her from herself even if her sister objects. But then Tannie meets Bax. The only apparent route to her sister. And Bax changes everything. Bax teaches Tannie a few things Tannie’d never expected to be expected to learn. About life, about crime, and most of all about herself.
“Is that why you practically dragged me in here, Bax? To talk about interior decoration?”
“Did I?” His voice moved closer.
“Did you what?”
“Drag you in here?”
Once again, darkness was her friend. This time because it hid the flush…of anticipation, or of embarrassment?…that crept over her face, determined to burn flesh and skin away.
Without warning a match flared and Bax leaned over her. Close. But not enough to touch. Not yet.
Laughing softly, enticingly, he brushed his flame against the wick of a candle. Then another, and another.
Candles. Leaning heavily against the back of the nearest chair, afraid to take a step away from it, Tannie shivered. Imagine that.
Afraid to show weakness, any sign of hesitance she lifted her chin.
Afraid he might laugh?
She had no idea why that should matter, but it did.
“I spend most of my nights by candlelight,” he admitted, lighting more of them all the way around the room. “Relieves the agony of having to look at my surroundings.”
No longer using a match, he touched one flaming wick to the next. Wick to wick in incendiary change reaction. Fire begetting fire. Hot and flickering. Fluttering -hot. Beautiful. Deadly. Sexual.
Leaning more heavily against her chair, Tannie dragged in a deep breath and licked her lips.
Candle flame. As deadly and fluttering-hot as the flame inside her. The one that hadn’t gone out since the instant his hand had slipped up and up beneath her skirt. To touch the outside of her thigh. Then her bottom. Then slipping back around to come to rest atop her most sensitized, mounded flesh. So he could almost…almost… insert a finger. So he could begin to probe her right there in public, on the Crandalls’ side lawn.
He’d only played with her then…with fingertips that flicked briefly, teasingly, across her damp and eager flesh. And then he’d said…
She’d never forget what he’d said.
“I’ll be damned.” He’d uttered the words in an utterly soft, utterly suggestive tone. Leaving no doubt where his mind drifted. Because it was the same place hers drifted.
That was how he’d gotten her there, to the pool house where he lived courtesy of the oh-so-generous Millie Crandall.
Not by dragging or forcing, but entirely by enticing.