Now available for
Pre-order!
REEVE IS COMING!
Meet Reeve & Emily in First Touch releasing December
29th!
Blurb
When Emily Wayborn goes home to visit her mom while on
hiatus from her hit TV show, she receives a voicemail from her former best
friend, Amber. Though the two were once notorious party girls, they haven't
spoken in years. Although the message might sound benign to anyone else, Amber
uses a safe word that Emily recognizes, a word they always used to get out of
sticky situations during their wild days. And what's more chilling than the
voicemail: it turns out that Amber has gone missing.
Determined to track down her friend, Emily follows a chain
of clues that lead her to the enigmatic billionaire Reeve Sallis, a hotelier
known for his shady dealings and play boy reputation. Now, in order to find
Amber, Emily must seduce Reeve to learn his secrets and discover the
whereabouts of her friend. But as she finds herself more entangled with him,
she finds she's drawn to Reeve for more than just his connection to Amber,
despite her growing fear that he may be the enemy. When she's forced to choose
where her loyalty lies, how will she decide between saving Amber and saving her
heart?
Excerpt
“I hope
you’re nice and relaxed, Emily. Because we need to have a chat.”
Apprehension
fluttered in my belly. Chatting was definitely not the direction I wanted to go
in from here. Whatever he had to say, I couldn’t possibly listen. I was too
agitated.
But
without him spelling it out, I knew that was the terms of this arrangement.
He’d touch me—in his way. And I’d listen, whether I wanted to or not.
So I
propped myself up again and gave him as much of my attention as I could.
“It’s
interesting,” he said, his thumbs doing that amazing thing on the bottom of my
foot, “how people respond to you when they believe you’ve gotten away with
murder.”
My
stomach dropped. No speech that started with murder had a happy ending.
“Most
people are frightened of you,” he said as his hand stroked up my shin. “They
pull their business. They stop attending your events. They certainly won’t let
themselves be seen with you. It’s not really anything to fret over, losing
those connections. You don’t want cowards in your court. Good riddance to
them.”
“I’m not
a coward,” I managed to say defensively. Though I wasn’t sure why I was
defending myself. Or why I was anxious that he might mean good riddance to me
when that was probably exactly what I should be wishing he meant.
He
glanced up at me, amusement in his features. “No, you’re not. You’re not
scared. Or you’re not scared enough.”
I barely
fought the shiver that begged to stutter through my body. It was a menacing
statement, and I wanted to deny it as well. Tell him that I was definitely
scared enough. But what the hell did that mean, anyway? Considering how turned
on I was despite everything I’d learned about him, still turned on despite the
foreboding in his tone, well, maybe he had a point. I really wasn’t scared
enough.
The
amusement transformed to what looked more like awe. Then his attention fell back
to my leg and I couldn’t see his face well enough to read him. But after he
pushed my ankle back so that my knee bent, his touch changed. A single finger
traced the line of my inner thigh. Softly. Sweetly. Just as he got to where I
so wanted him to go, he abruptly stopped. One second passed. Two.
Then he
resumed the firm pressure from before, reclaiming his restraint. For now.
I could
wait.
His
speech continued, his voice firm, icy. “There are other people, too. Those that
respect you. They aren’t necessarily your friends, because they’re also
scared—probably even more so than those who keep their distance. They continue
their financial support of your endeavors. They invite you to their parties.
Their children’s weddings. They look out for you. Because, you see, they’re
afraid that if they don’t…well.”
My heart
hammered in my ears. Suddenly I was feeling vulnerable in a way that had
nothing to do with my nudity and all to do with the frailty of my size compared
to the strength of his.
As if to
prove that point, Reeve increased the pressure of his kneading, digging his
fingers into the flesh of my thigh with a bite that sang and stung. “It’s a
very intense form of power, actually. Much like having money. I’m sure you’ve
gotten a taste of that with the recent success of your show. Imagine that but
multiplied by a billion.”
“Mm hmm,”
I said, a response that served as an answer though it was mostly an involuntary
reaction to his hands. He’d reached the top of my limb again. Like before, the
tips of his fingers brushed against my folds.
Goddammit,
I was wet. And trembling. And overwrought with anticipation. This time, would
he let his touch wander farther up? In?
His hands
left me. He pushed my leg down, pulled the sheet back over my leg and pinned me
with narrowed eyes. “It’s also not unlike the power of being a very attractive
person. Another privilege that you understand.” He scanned the length of my
body, the sheet still a barrier between us, and let out an audible breath. “I
imagine you must understand it very well indeed.”
It was an
accusation. The grit in his voice and the weight of his stare said so. Fucker.
Whatever hopes I’d had for this whole scene of his, it was clear now that his
intent was not friendly. Punishing, more like. I still wasn’t sure for what
exactly. For being in his pool. For using my beauty to draw his interest. For
coming onto him without his permission. I’d thought his humiliating body search
had been all the reprimand I was getting. Guess I’d been wrong.
My eyes
fell. However, a glance at his crotch gave me the slightest smidgeon of
satisfaction. He was unmistakably hard. He might be punishing me, but he was
punishing himself too.
About the Author:
Laurelin Paige is the NY Times, Wall Street Journal,
and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Fixed Trilogy. She's a sucker for a
good romance and gets giddy anytime there's kissing, much to the embarrassment
of her three daughters. Her husband doesn't seem to complain, however. When she
isn't reading or writing sexy stories, she's probably singing, watching Game of
Thrones and the Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender. She's also a
proud member of Mensa International though she doesn't do anything with the
organization except use it as material for her bio.
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