So, you know from the title alone that this story’s gonna be hot, right? I had fun brainstorming the series name–Stepbrothers Stepping Out. I knew I wanted to combine not one, but two, taboo themes—Step-siblings and Ménage. I had thought I was out of step scenarios, but then you all came up with a treasure trove of ideas for me to continue with. But I think after I write one more, I’ll take a break. I want to do several step-daddy fantasies too, but have yet to find that perfect series title. Do y’all have any suggestions? 🙂

Shorties are never going to make me rich and famous, but I enjoy writing them so much, I can’t stop. Thank goodness, y’all seem to enjoy reading the bite-sized goodies too! Remember, there are four other step-stories. And I bet you can’t stop at just one…

Answer for your chance to win your pick from among the many short stories I’ve published. I will pick three winners! (Sorry, not this stepbrother story!) You can check out the list here: Short Stories

Which sport’s players do you find the sexiest? Football, soccer, basketball…?

When a college student changes her appearance and follows her brother and his teammates to Spring Break in Mexico, she’s ready for adventure… It’s game on!

Purchase your copy here!

Excerpt from With His Team…

Moisture spilled into the crotch of my panties. I could have him. I could have them all. The ugly sister. The girl they thought only good enough to do their laundry or their homework. I could be the thing they’d fantasized over for weeks. And I was dying to know what exactly they’d dreamed of doing.

Who was I kidding? My decision had been made the minute I’d decided to follow them to Cabo. “Empty the ice bucket. I want all the phones inside it.”

Indrawn breaths sounded all around. Then the guys sprang eagerly into action, doing as I had asked, filling the bucket then walking toward Harry and me. He dropped his hands and stood back, his gaze sliding away as the guys gave me the bucket. I counted the phones, then added my own, making sure they understood how seriously I was taking their precautions.

They had plans. Likely expected to take control and move me around like a doll to be shared. I had other ideas about how this should go down. Starting now.

I balled my fists and placed them on my hips, then gave them a steady stare, touching on each of their faces. Harry’s expression was impossible to read, shuttered, his blue eyes narrowed. Mal’s darkly furred chest was rising and falling swiftly; his cock was already pressing against the front of his trunks. Sam stood, arms akimbo, a cocky grin stretching his lovely mouth. And Karo looked so fierce more moisture wet my folds.

“I’d like to see what I’ll be playing with,” I said softly.

They all quickly reached for their waistbands—all except Harry, whose expression was turning darker by the minute. He was the one who’d sealed the deal. Shouldn’t he be happier?

“Wait,” I blurted.

They halted. Mal groaned.

“Do you have condoms? Foam?”

“A fucking case,” Sam said. “No foam.”

A case? Seriously?

Sam shrugged. “Four guys, five days… We had to be prepared.”

But a case? I shook my head. “All right. You can continue.”

Shorts and trunks dropped to their feet, Harry’s a little more slowly. Not a one of them wore underwear. All their cocks were erect, rising upward. A creamy ball of pre-ejaculate sat on the tip of Mal’s nearly purple cock.

My heart galloped, and I sucked in a deep breath, and then another to calm myself.

“What about you?” Harry said, raising his chin.

“Guess that’s only fair.” Oh fuck! It was time to commit. I could turn tail and run, or I could really do this. Mary the doormat would have quivered in her Converse tennis shoes. Instead, I turned to give Harry my back. “Unzip me.”

His hands moved my hair forward. The zipper eased. I stepped away to face them, holding the fabric against my chest, and then slowly pushed it downward.

Every gaze went right to my breasts. All breathing ceased. I pushed the dress past my hips and let it puddle around my feet. Then I tucked my thumbs into the thin band of elastic riding my hips and shoved my panties down. When I was as nude as they were, I held still, letting them look.

Mal was the first to shake himself from his stupor. He took a step forward, but I wagged a finger. He fell back in line.

I walked to Karo, standing at one end of their lineup. I reached out a hand, surprised it wasn’t shaking, and smoothed it over his chest. His pecs tensed beneath my touch. I glided my fingers lower then wrapped them around his huge, blunt cock.

He eased his feet apart and pulsed his hips. I let him glide his cock through my fingers then dropped my hand and moved down the line.

Sam sucked in a breath that tightened his already ripped abdomen. I gave him a similar caress, this time boldly tugging on his dick.

He lifted on his toes to follow the motion then gave a little moan when I moved away.

The head of Mal’s cock was well-lubricated. I stood in front of him and grasped him with both hands, one cuddling his balls, the other stroking his cock. When I moved my hand upward, I rubbed my thumb in the creamy moisture, smearing it over the cap.

I aimed a glance at Harry whose gaze was smoky. “I think I need more assurances,” I said softly.

“What do you want?”

“We need a secret. One you won’t want breathed to anyone outside this room.”

His gaze hardened. “What do you want?” he repeated, his voice harsher.

I glanced sideways at Sam. “I want you to blow Mal.”

Can you believe this is the last day of March?! I feel as though I blinked on New Year’s day and now I’m here!

Ready for another wild ride with my naughty steps? The fifth step-sibling adventure in a series of edible little shorties is ready for you to enjoy.

He should be taboo. A place a girl should never go. But he’s there, always in your life. Accessible, and yet, not. Until proximity and availability inspire lust–and then he’s irresistible.

Click on the meme above to see all the step-stories on Amazon!

While you’re here, be sure to see what was new in March and what’s coming in April–I promise it’s hot!

And thanks for being here. I love hearing from you. Love that you’re still buying my stories. Here’s a toast to March–tomorrow’s a new month!

Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Team

When a college student changes her appearance and follows her brother and his teammates to Spring Break in Mexico, she’s ready for adventure… It’s game on!

Purchase at Amazon

Love on the edge of the galaxy… For Captain Adam Zingh, the mission is simple–acquire one hundred wives for him and his crewmates to help colonize a new planet, far from Dominion rule. Rescuing prisoners from penitentiary in deep space should have been a simple in and out operation. The women would be grateful for a second change at freedom, or so he thought. However, he hadn’t yet encountered the stubborn captain of the prison ship. When pirates overtake their ship, Evena McClure resists, mindful of her duty to protect the women under her command as well as her impending pardon. The pirate and the prisoner have only a week to seduce the other side to their will. A pirate’s parlay has never been so sweet! Buy at Amazon ~~~~~~~

A female soccer player, who is also a Domme, has more at stake than scoring points on the field. Win or lose, she’s making her move today… Buy at Amazon

I have another short story, and by the end of the week, I’ll have one more ready to go. First, Playing the Field is an LGBT story about two female soccer players. If you read the Cleis anthology, Girls Who Score, then you read the original version before I decided to expand it. Enjoy the excerpt I provide below. And no, I’m not a soccer player myself, but my daughter was, so she helped me with the “choreography” for the scene. Hope you enjoy! By the end of the week, I’ll have the next Stepbrothers Stepping Out story ready! Be watching for the announcement!

And because I love to do it, I have a question for you now. Answer for your chance to win your pic from among the many short stories I’ve published.

You can check out the list here: Short Stories

Do you like to watch or play sports? If so, which one(s)?

Playing the Field

A female soccer player has more at stake than scoring points
on the field. Win or lose, she’s making her move today…

Buy at Amazon

Enjoy the excerpt!

Sweat stung my eyes. I lifted the edge of my blue jersey and wiped my face, never losing sight of the black and white ball flying across the grass field.

“One minute left!” Coach shouted from the sidelines.

It’s just a damn game, I reminded myself, but still my stomach plummeted. We needed one point to enter the penalty phase. One lousy point to tie this game up.

The Sharks were playing like damn minnows, letting the Vipers kick our asses up and down the soccer field—our home field. And from their grim expressions, every one of my team members felt the same urgency. If we didn’t win, this would be the last game of the season.

For me, it was about more than just the game. The last game was also my last chance to work up my courage to do what I’d been fantasizing about since the team had first started training in early spring.

A green jersey bumped past me, the Vipers’ player turning her head to give me a smirk before loping on her coltish legs down the field to follow the ball. Anger flared.

One lousy point. I stretched my shorter legs, heart pumping so hard inside my chest the shouts from the sparse crowd in the bleachers faded away. My focus narrowed to the ball zigzagging from one Viper player to the next, my own blue-jerseyed teammates showing the strain in their grim expressions as their movements lost fluidity and grace, and they clumsily tried to muscle close enough to steal away the ball.

I stretched one last time, edged up to the player dribbling the ball between her clever feet, then swept out my foot, catching her ankle and sending her sprawling, then stole the ball.

I wasn’t the most graceful player, wasn’t the star, but I had the goddamn ball now. I lowered my shoulder and bumped a Viper out of the way, then pivoted on my toes and aimed myself and the ball toward the opposite end of the field.

From the corner of my eye, I saw her, backing up toward the other team’s goalie box.

Vicky Moldina gave me a little wave, and I tipped my chin, but didn’t want anyone catching my intent, so I ran to the right, skirting their players, lowering my shoulders and putting on the bull dog face I’d been told intimidated the hell out of other teams—something that always set my own team laughing, because they knew me better.

However, if they’d read the deadly intent in my heart, the searing determination, they’d have wondered who the hell I was.

My thoughts and heart slowed. I repelled the next player who moved in to steal the ball with a sharp, sly elbow. I charged forward, then zagged to the left, leaving two opponents to tumble over one another, and then headed on a parallel path with their goalie.

Vicky backed up again then shot toward the goalie.

I kept on my parallel path, then tried a move I’d failed more often than I’d completed, kicking the ball with my heel to send it like a bullet to Vicky who was poised in front of the goalie’s box.

Our star striker grinned, swept out her foot to catch it—but something happened.

Usually so graceful, her foot rolled over the top of the ball, her ankle turned. She fell in a heap to her knees, then beat her palms against the grass as a green-shirted bitch gave a whoop and stole the ball away, racing toward the other end of the field.

Three short whistles blew. I bent at the waist, hands braced on my knees as I dragged in deep breaths. My gaze remained on Vicky who pushed up from the ground.

She met my gaze and mouthed, “Fuck.”

I shrugged and forced a smile. “Just a game.”

We shared small smiles while our teammates pulled together, remembered their manners, and gave Vicky half-hearted pats to console her before lining up to run past the other team, slapping hands and offering insincere congratulations.

I ran behind Vicky, wishing I hadn’t passed the ball to her. Not because I was disappointed with the outcome, but because I didn’t want this to be the memory she took away from the game. I didn’t want our friendship tainted even a little bit. Not that it was a deep one. Or even very personal.

After my teammates huddled with the coach and offered each other hugs and promises to meet for lunch or dinner during our break—none of which would happen—I trudged toward the showers in the rec center.

“Dinner at Hooters!” Coach called out.

I grinned. We’d have had Outback if we’d won; the threat of Hooters had been meant to spur us toward victory.

As players headed to their lockers, Vicky limped toward the coach’s wire equipment cage. She dug beneath balls and netting then pulled out the first aid bag.

I didn’t like the little wince she gave and moved toward her. “Did you hurt yourself when you took that tumble?” I asked, my voice a little thick because hell, it was her I was talking to.

She wrinkled her perfectly shaped, narrow nose. “It’s my knee. I felt something pull.”

“Do you need to go to the emergency room?”

She shook her head, sweaty tendrils of dark hair shaking against her cheeks. “It’s probably just a sprain. I’ll wrap it after I shower.” She pulled a rolled ACE bandage from the pack and started to put the bag back into the cage.

I reached for the bag, taking it from her and rummaging inside. I pulled out a small jar of Tiger Balm and held it up. “I’ll massage it before you wrap. It’ll feel better faster.” Lord, my cheeks began to burn. Had I given myself away in my eagerness?

Her brows furrowed—just a subtle motion, almost indiscernible, but the glance that swept my body was less so. Subtle, that is. “All right. After we shower.”

After we shower. I know my jaw sagged just a bit at the way she’d emphasized that one little word. Drool pooled in my mouth. I followed her as she turned away, heading to her locker to pull out a plastic bag with her toiletries and a fluffy white towel. I did the same, hurriedly, a little nervous now.

I was reading too much into her words. Still, when we entered the open shower room, I hesitated before setting my items on the slatted wooden bench beside hers. When she raked her jersey over her head, I followed suit and stripped.

Most of the girls were already finishing up. One by one, spigots turned off, towels slid around nude bodies, and they trailed out the door, leaving us alone.

Good locker room etiquette would have been to choose a spigot on the opposite side of the room, but when she strode to the far corner, out of sight of the open doorway, I followed, choosing one right beside her and trying hard not to let my gaze linger on her gorgeous frame.

A small half-smile kicked up one corner of her mouth before she turned her head, closed her eyes, and let the hot water sluice over her hair and face, giving me the perfect opportunity to ogle her long, lithe body.

Which I did until she opened her eyes. I quickly glanced away.

She squeezed shampoo into her palm then handed me the bottle. Her fingertips glided against mine before dropping away. Swallowing hard, I squeezed shampoo directly onto my hair, then set the bottle on the floor.

With our gazes locked, we began to soap our hair.

Nothing had ever been this hot.

We’d both no doubt showered in open stalls in high school—naked women with slippery bodies—but I, for one, had never been this aware. With her hands raised, massaging her scalp, soap slithered down in long, winding ropes that caressed her shoulders, her small round breasts, and taut belly. Her legs parted, widening her stance a little so that I could admire the small, smooth labia framed so perfectly by her muscular thighs.

“My knee’s throbbing,” she whispered.

My gaze darted up, and soap slid into my eyes. I grimaced and turned my hot face into the spray before blinking back at her. Her lips were pursed in a smile; her eyes wrinkled at the corners with silent laughter.

God, if she was teasing me because she knew I was queer I thought I might never get over the embarrassment. But she turned, showing me her ass, and then glanced over a shoulder, one dark, arched brow raised. “It’s okay for you to wash it. The others are gone.”

“You sprain your hand, too?” I blurted.

Although my voice was gruff, she didn’t seem put off. She squeezed soap from her short hair to trail down her back then faced the white tiles.

UPDATE: The winner is…Armenia!

* * * * *

What’s sexier than a cowboy? How about SEAL who’s also a cowboy? How about a SEAL/Cowboy who also doesn’t give up on love? I had fun writing this story about a woman wooed by her high school sweetheart relentlessly over the years of their separation—due to her stubbornness and his many tours of duty. In the end, what woman could resist such a heady combination?

Comment for a chance to win your choice of one of my Lone Star Lovers books! 

Rules of Engagement

Callie Murphy had never been one to moon over a man. Fairytale romances were best left to novels. After all, she’d seen first-hand how transitory love could be after watching her mother drift in and out of three marriages, only to be left disappointed when “true love” faded. However, the video Callie watched for the thousandth time stirred a wistfulness inside that left her feeling restless and thinking about what might have been.

Just the sight of that warm, steady gaze enveloped her in warmth. The deep timbre of his voice as he sang raised the fine hairs on her arms and caused her nipples to prickle, because she remembered that same voice murmuring in her ear in the darkness.

Knowing she’d never get his approval for security’s sake, she’d snuck this recording of their Skype session using a plug-in installed on her computer because she’d wanted something of him to linger after they’d said their goodbyes. This recording been made before their final breakup. Now, watching and listening to him was a form of self-torture. Wearing desert camouflage pants and a brown tee stretching across a well-muscled chest, his dark hair a little shaggy and his beard scruffy, he was all man. All complication. Those piercing blue eyes stared into the camera at her, steady and determined, and Callie couldn’t help the tears welling in her eyes.

Prickles of dismay swept over her as she imagined some other woman, someone not her, on the receiving end of one of his calls, being serenaded with that husky, smooth-as-silk voice. The last time he’d proposed, she’d been firm, making it clear she had no interest in leaving behind the life she’d built in Two Mule, Texas while he was set on a career in the Navy. Rightfully, he should have moved on. No one here in Two Mule would ever fault him. No one really understood why she kept refusing him, but then they hadn’t walked in her shoes through her childhood.

Her mother had followed that “broken road,” uprooting Callie three times, from the friends she’d made, from the roots she’d tried so desperately to sink deep into every place she’d lived. She’d never make that same mistake. Love faded, turned bitter and dark. When love ended, good people drifted apart, or worse, struck out at each other. She’d lived it, first-hand.

So when Derek had stood on her doorstep that last day before heading back to Little Creek, where no doubt his team would be deployed on more dangerous secret missions in the Middle East, Africa, or whatever foreign hellhole the powers that be scrambled a SEAL team for, she’d shut the door on everything he’d offered, despite the fact he’d been sincere—and despite the fact her own heart had twisted inside her chest at the disappointment darkening his eyes.

Watching the video now, him seated on a narrow cot strumming a guitar while he sang about roads leading him straight to some other woman, Callie couldn’t help sniffling. He’d known even before that last proposal that she’d say no. And yet, here he’d been, reaching out to her, letting her see inside his heart as he strummed out his pain.

Watching him as he’d given her a smile, and then sat back to pull his guitar across his legs, she remembered everything she’d felt—nostalgia for their long-shared past, irritation he’d never give up, and joy, deep inside, that his love had never waned, because she was selfish like that. Although she’d been unwilling to hitch her star along with his, she’d depended on his love. Read the rest of this entry »

UPDATE: The winner is…Janie!

* * * * *

For those of you who aren’t signed up for my newsletter, I have a new release!

Well, this is a new-old story. One I wrote way back when. Because I still love it, I prettied it up and readied it for prime time. Sort of. It’s still a tad raunchier than my current stuff. ¿Cómo es posible?, you ask. You gotta love the alphabet: mf, mff, mfm, and of course, orgies…

But at the core, Desire’s Prisoner is very much a romance between the captain of a pirate space ship and the captain of a prison ship, who also happens to be a prisoner…

Get your copy now for just $0.99! That price won’t last long.

*~*~*~*

Desire’s Prisoner

Love on the edge of the galaxy…

For Captain Adam Zingh, the mission is simple–acquire one hundred wives for him and his crewmates to help colonize a new planet, far from Dominion rule. Rescuing prisoners from penitentiary in deep space should have been a simple in and out operation. The women would be grateful for a second change at freedom, or so he thought. However, he hadn’t yet encountered the stubborn captain of the prison ship.

When pirates overtake their ship, Evena McClure resists, mindful of her duty to protect the women under her command as well as her impending pardon.

The pirate and the prisoner have only a week to seduce the other side to their will.

A pirate’s parlay has never been so sweet!

Get your copy here!

*~*~*~*

Desire’s Slave

Book 2 of the Planet Desire trilogy is coming next month!

After a fellow convict is murdered while she’s guarding the maximum-security cellblock, ex-con Calandra Jones escapes the ship of the pirates who liberated the convicts, determined to make it on her own. Just as she’s attempting to arrange passage on another ship headed for a mining colony, she’s abducted by a handsome slave trader bent on offering her for sale at a potentate’s auction.

Calandra vows to seduce the trader into changing his mind about offering her for sale. A sensual storm erupts during their desert odyssey that culminates when Calandra is sold, and Drago must decide whether he trusts their love enough to launch a rescue.

Reserve your copy here!

*~*~*~*

Contest

For a chance to win a small Amazon gift card, answer me this…

Are you a fan of Sci-Fi romance? Would you like to see more stories in this genre?

This is a new old story. One I wrote way back when. The first story I ever published—but now, refurbed, prettied up, and readied for prime time. Sort of. It’s also just a tad raunchier than my current stuff. ¿Cómo es posible? You gotta love the alphabet: mf, mff, mfm, and of course, orgies…

And at the core, a romance between the captain of a pirate space ship and the captain of a prison ship who also happens to be another prisoner.

Check it out. It’s coming your way next week…

“Captain, I’ve picked up the ship’s warning beacon.”

Captain Adamarik Zingh straightened from the navigation console. At last. The final stage of his plan was about to unfold. The beacon was programmed to broadcast as soon as any ship approached within hailing distance of the penitentiary. “Let’s hear it.”

His communications mate pressed the intercom switch.

“Warning! You are entering Interplanetary Dominion-controlled space.” The computer-generated message transmitted in the Universal Language. “This ship is a Dominion Prison. Any vessel detected within a one hundred milli-league radius of the ship will be destroyed.”

“Retract the visor,” Adam ordered, ignoring the warning.

The whirring sound that accompanied the retracting curtain of metal made Adam wince, reminding him of the loss of his previous spacecraft. Its state-of-the-art bioluminescent screen would have recreated the view of space without leaving the ship’s hull vulnerable.

But pirates couldn’t be too choosy. The lumbering transport vessel he now captained had enabled his band of raiders to creep close to their target, beneath the blanket of the Dominion’s detector beams. Its unremarkable appearance in this little-traveled part of the universe was a perfect ruse.

“I see her, Adam.” The man at the helm, first mate Cantor Marlow, dipped the prow of the ship leeward. The sudden change in tack caused the old barge to shudder violently as it resisted the gravitational pull exerted by the desolate, uninhabitable planet the larger prison ship orbited. Then a low, ominous groan from the hull itself rattled the consoles, spilling cups and charts onto the floor.

Adam maintained his balance, barely, and turned to glower at his first mate. “Cookie’ll dice your innards for that. He’ll be cleaning grub from the ceiling for a week.”

Cantor shrugged, a wicked twinkle in his eye. “I was just making sure the breaching crewmen were out of their bunks.” His gaze shifted beyond Adam. “There she is.”

Adam glanced through the open portal, searching space beyond the rim of the small planet. An infinite, black night stretched before him. Full of endless possibilities. An irresistible siren’s call that had beckoned him from his first voyage.

Then he saw it. The enormous hull of the prison ship loomed in the distance. Anticipation leapt in his veins. “Alert the breaching crew.”

His first mate grunted. “Lucky sods.”

Three whistles shrilled, followed by the alert message.

“Cantor, you’re in charge,” Adam called over his shoulder as he headed toward the ship’s hold.

“Aye, sir. Good luck—and don’t forget my list.”

Adam slapped his palm against the door button, and it slid silently open. Within the hold, the breaching crew was assembling—or at least he thought it was his crew. Gone were their beards and rough pirate’s clothing. In their place stood well-scrubbed, clean-chinned men.

His security officer, Darak, strode toward him clad in a deep azure shirt tucked into tan leather breeches.

“What in hell are you wearing?”

“It’s just a little something I picked up at our last port of call. Alarian silk.” Darak shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “Quite sturdy material, actually.”

“You look like a damned peacock,” Adam muttered. His gaze swept over the rest of his breaching party, and he fisted his hands on his hips. “I’m capturing a ship with a bloody flock of peacocks.” Read the rest of this entry »

UPDATE: The winner of the free Lone Star Lovers book is… Pat Freely!

* * * * *

I love writing sexy cowboys, and writing the Lone Star Lovers series was a blast. Who wouldn’t love sinking deep into cowboys who learn that loving sometimes means sharing? 🙂

Not that I ever met a cowboy who was anything but super possessive of what was his. But that’s what erotic fantasy is all about. We take that slide into a deep pool of What If and suspend reality for a little carnal pleasure. And if you’ve never tried my Lone Star cowboys, take a peek inside the very first book…

Comment for a chance to win your choice of one of my Lone Star Lovers books! 

“Unbridled is a stand out!” ~ Joyfully Reviewed

“…In [UNBRIDLED]…we are following the sexy machinations of Justin, and he does sexy so well it isn’t difficult to picture him doling out love to his two subs… If you are seeking an intensely erotic short read, UNBRIDLED is the one for you…” ~ 5 Angels, Fallen Angels Reviews

Tough…or tender? If she plays her cards right, she won’t have to choose.

Dani Standifer arrives home at her West Texas family ranch a day early, ready to pick up where she left off with Rowe Ayers, her high school sweetheart. However, when she opens the door to their line-shack trysting place, it’s clear she waited a day too long. Rowe’s with someone else—another man. And not just any other man— Justin Cruz, the bad boy with whom she shared one wild encounter, years ago.

Justin’s waited a long time for this moment. He knows his reputation, but since he seduced Rowe, he’s been a one-man cowboy—waiting for Dani to return and become the delicious fulfillment of his and Rowe’s needs. If she’s up to the challenge.

To her own surprise, Dani finds she’s more than ready to have both men in her life—as soon as she and Rowe teach Justin a lesson or two about love.

Their small town may not be ready for their kind of relationship. And Dani’s brother Cutter’s mile-deep grudge against Justin throws in a complication that could break the foundation the three of them have built…

Warning: Hold on for the rodeo of your life with rough ridin’ male on male action; blazing hot m/m/f scenes; and melt-your-panties lovin’ as each of these sexy cowboys gives it the way they know best to turn their woman inside out.

There are moments that can change the course of a woman’s life from one heartbeat to the next. For Dani Standifer, this was that moment.

She’d returned to Two Mule, Texas a day earlier than she’d planned, intending to surprise her boyfriend. But the surprise was definitely on her. Rowan Ayers’s body, hardening with arousal, demonstrated more poignantly than any “Dear Jane” letter that she’d been gone far too long. He’d moved on.

Everything she’d ever dreamed of for her future evaporated like the sweat glistening on his naked chest.

As well, it hurt that he’d chosen this place to bring another woman. The isolated, ramshackle line shack had been their favorite place, their secret love nest. The cabin sat nestled in a thicket of scrubby cedar, a tall live oak providing the structure shade from the late afternoon sun. The shack was situated inside the Ayers fence line, equidistant from both of their ranch houses. Perfect for the trysts they’d shared throughout high school and during summer breaks from university. Here, they’d explored their young bodies, talked about their dreams for the future…and made plans.

Just moments ago when she realized he was here, emotions had welled up, threatening to overspill—gratitude for his friendship, uncertainty because he’d been so aloof of late, and certainly lust since this place had been their special sanctuary from the world.

She squared her shoulders, preparing to climb up the steps, but then she heard the soft nicker of another horse.

Peering around the corner, she spied a tall, gelded bay, and a leaden weight settled in her middle. But she didn’t want to jump to conclusions. There could be a simpler, more innocent explanation for why two horses were hitched to the rails outside the cabin.

She had to know the truth.

Dani crept silently onto the wooden porch and edged toward the window to take a glimpse inside. Two cowboy hats lay on the table. The twin mattress from the bed in the corner had been pulled to the center of the floor—just as it always had whenever they’d met for a little afternoon delight.

Rowe stood naked, a hand roaming his taut, flat belly, another gliding up and down his straining cock. But he was alone.

No fire burned in the hearth, but the cabin had to be hot from the amount of sweat gleaming on his long, lean frame. She stood frozen, noting that his light brown hair was longer than it had been at Christmas, and he hadn’t shaved. A couple days’ worth of bristles dusted his rugged, square jaw. He’d always been scrupulous about his appearance, but she liked the slightly scruffy look and wondered grumpily if his new girlfriend did too.

Which reminded her she needed to get moving or she’d really embarrass herself. And him. Although why she worried about his feelings when he hadn’t had the cajones to tell her the truth, she couldn’t say.  With only one room in the cabin, she knew whomever he was meeting had to be outside.

Still, she stayed there for a another long moment, staring, lust and anger curling inside her as she watched his ice blue eyes slide shut while he touched himself.

He was readying himself for another lover. Stoking his arousal. Something she’d often watched him do, sometimes sneaking up on him, like now, to spy on him and let her own desire climb. Sometimes, she’d lain on the mattress in front of him, pleasuring herself, both of them staring as their hands and fingers played while their mouths curved into slow, sultry smiles.

Heartsick, she edged backward, trying to decide if she should storm inside to confront him or slink away. One option might leave her feeling foolish; the other would save her a bit of pride while she regrouped her emotions. But did she even have a right to feel hurt? He hadn’t betrayed her. Not really. She’d been the one reluctant to make any lasting promises, sure she could pick right up where they’d left off when she returned.

Maybe she’d waited too long. The extra year and a half she’d lingered in Austin while she worked on her graduate degree had been something she’d wanted. He hadn’t complained. Not once. The last time they’d been together, he’d still been full of plans for their future. As soon as she said yes, they’d announce their engagement and give her brother the chance to provide the wedding her mother and father would have wanted. They’d do things right.

Liar, liar, liar!

Suppressing the sob threatening to shudder through her, she backed up another step and came up against something solid.

Strong arms wrapped around her, and she froze. The scent of horse and clean male sweat engulfed her.

“Easy there,” came a low, familiar drawl.

Shock rendered her mute and rigid.

“Not what you expected?” he whispered into her ear. Read the rest of this entry »