Excerpts from HIP POCKET ROMANCES

Unable to stop himself, Blane got up from his chair, nearly tipping it over, and took a step toward her. Aimee inhaled sharply, feeling her body thrum with expectation. She was thirsty for his touch, and for the pressure of his hot, heavy body against hers. Through half-closed lids, she watched as he captured a piece of ice from his own glass and reached for her.

 

 

 

 

 

 
 






A beam of bright light swept over her. Although she knew the light was coming from the lighthouse, her mind had drawn inward, shifting her focus off her driving. As a result, she was startled when the brilliant white shaft suddenly pierced the car’s interior, and her hands jerked on the wheel. The car swerved to the right. A darkness loomed in front of her as the vehicle threatened to plunge into the culvert, and she automatically tried to swerve left. She overcompensated. Worse, she hit a patch of ice, and the SUV slid sideways for a few feet.

She fought the wheel to keep the vehicle stable and on the road. Pumping the brakes, she thought she'd managed to regain control until she hit a rock or small sand hill and went sailing into the air. The car twisted, landing hard on its passenger side, and turned over in a three-quarter roll before sliding to a squealing halt. It finally came to rest on the driver's side, tires spinning uselessly. The last thing she remembered before blacking out was the sound of the windshield wipers squeaking as they continued to clear the rain that was trying to ice over the front glass.

And then...darkness.

 
 
 









Standing in the middle of the circle of spray jets, he closed his eyes to seek her through their bond. He found the other half of his heart sitting, impatient, nervous, and bored. Then he turned on the spigots.

At first, Lyric thought the roof was leaking. Glancing up, she couldn’t see where the water was coming from, but she could feel the soft drops on her face. She swiped her cheeks, but there was no moisture.

“Something wrong, Cochise?”

She glanced over at her fellow prosecutor sitting across from her. “No. Just thinking.” Jerico nodded and leaned back in his chair, but by this time she could feel the definite touch of water droplets on her arms and legs.

When Ta’Loov was sure their connection was at its strongest, he worked up a lather in his hands and began to massage the soap through his fur, running his nails over his skin. Lightly scoring his flesh as he touched himself.

Lyric jolted upright in her chair from the sensation.

As she realized what was going on, she tried to close her eyes and appear calm to those around her. Yet, her mind both rebelled and was titillated by the provocative feelings crawling over her skin.

My love, what are you doing to me?