November Newsletter

November News

Some months are quiet, but not, as it turned out, October!

At the start of the month, the latest Dept 57 book, Bloody Crystal was released. I adored writing this one, as it was set partly in a place that my husband and I love, Llandudno in Wales. But I told you all about that last time!

Then I got word that Strangers No More was being moved up to fill a vacant release spot, so that came out at the end of October. The story of a woman who needs plastic surgery to further her career as a journalist and news reporter. It was fun writing it, and showing the other side of cosmetic procedures, where it benefits someone. Her lover already wanted her, but he was worried, too. Would the new nose change her, would she let him make love to her in the light?

And then I had to prepare for a big release for me, in November. It’s big, because it’s my first mainstream romantic suspense, and my first release with Carina. As yet, I haven’t heard officially about the second book in what I want to be a trilogy, but I’m keeping everything crossed! Learning To Trust will be out towards the end of November. If any of you here are reviewers, there’s a copy on netgalley that you can pick up.

So all go here in the Connolly household!

The Festival of Romance was great fun, and I met some lovely people, and renewed my friendship with others. Jean Fullerton was there, doing one of her wonderful talks – if you ever get the chance to see Jean, I can highly recommend it. I took part in Charlie Cochrane’s first 150 word workshop, and I read the first 150 words of “Shifting Heat.” I was on the paranormal panel, and that was interesting, as paranormal is a fairly new romance genre for the UK market. I have no idea why the greats haven’t caught on yet, but they probably will in time, as how do you ignore someone as good as Nalini Singh?

And for November – I’ve signed on to NaNoWriMo! I must be mad, but I needed to get a book done, and that boot up the backside can really help. So far I’m only 6,000 words in, but I do want to get on and get it written, at least the first draft.

Finally – yesterday, so hot off the press, so to speak, I got an offer of a contract from Decadent Press. I’m so please. It’s a story about a haunted ocean liner, but it’s paranormal, not realistic, as I’ve given the characters and the ghosts attributes they don’t usually get! I’m so glad this story is getting an airing.

I write several stories that I have no home for, just because I need to write them. Recently, I realised that although I write in several genres, that’s because it’s the best way to explore an issue that interests me. So the venture into romantic suspense is because I want to explore trust in extreme circumstances – who do you trust, when you’re not sure about anything anymore? And where do you find the courage to do it? So I’m planning to change my tagline to reflect it. I’ve had several thoughts, but I haven’t discovered the final one, yet. I like “All roads lead to romance,” but it’s too clichéd, so I’m still working on that theme. Rebranding, in a way, but I don’t like to think of myself as a brand. More a force of nature! If you can think of a good tagline, there’ll be a little thank you gift on its way to you!

And I’ve been working towards Romantic Times next April. I’m on at least one panel, and I’ll be around all week, so I’d absolutely love to see you there, if you can make it. In these troubled times, we all need a little romance to warm us at night.

Excerpt

Strangers No More – a new story from Ellora’s Cave

Over 18’s only, please.

Whitney slid her keycard into the slot of a hotel room door in downtown L.A., the kind of hotel that hosted conventions and business meetings. Anonymous and huge. The green light flashed and she pushed the door open.

Someone dragged her into the room and slammed her against a wall. The door clicked shut, blocking out the only light available. The room was in pitch darkness, the windows covered, the lights out. She hit the wall with a soft thud, her face against the paper.

Her attacker grabbed her around the waist, his free hand dragging her head back by her hair, and then his mouth crashed down on hers, taking her with a hot desperation that flung her into the whirlwind. Now she couldn’t think. Now she could only feel. His hips pressed against hers at an awkward angle but he twisted them against her and she felt the insistent bulge of his erection.

The moment his lips came into contact with hers, she knew him. Knew that pressure, the way his mouth felt against hers, the way he flicked her lips with his tongue in an unspoken request—demand—that she open for him.

When she didn’t obey immediately, he nipped her bottom lip and when she opened her mouth to protest, he surged in, soothing the bite with his tongue in a gentle caress before resuming his fierce attack on her. She tasted him, peppermint and a touch of something else, something fruity. He’d had a glass of wine recently. He never met her drunk, but he sometimes tasted of wine and sometimes brandy. She loved it. It added a tinge of danger, the threat that he might get carried away and ignore her needs. But he never did.

“Never” being three times. They said that three times and one was hooked. Three cigarettes, three shots of heroin, three “Stranger Danger” encounters. The man with no name gave her what she needed, what she craved. He fed her addiction and she fed his.

He took her mouth with an intensity she could respond to only with the kind of helpless acceptance she never demonstrated in her real life. The life outside this door. Whimpering, she followed him when he withdrew, begging for more. With a grunt, he turned her around so her back pressed against the hotel wallpaper. Her backbone rolled against the hard surface but she welcomed the discomfort. He wasn’t going to stop. He seemed as desperate as she was. That had connected them from the first time, and he was no less desperate now. He wanted her.

Here, in the dark. No excuses, no explanations needed here.

He connected with her again, tilting his head to bring his mouth down on hers in a deeper, harder fusion. He swept his tongue around her mouth in total mastery. She opened for him and lifted her chin to meet his demands. He was much taller than she but then most people were. He must be over six feet, with the kind of abs a girl could get lost exploring. What a way to lose direction.

She grasped his shoulders, felt the rough edge of a T-shirt under her palms and groaned into his mouth. She loved the mounds and dips of his body. Fuck, this guy was ripped. Whoever he was.

He pressed against her, his pecs to her shoulders, and bent to kiss her. Sliding his hands around her waist, he lifted her with a convulsive motion, making her gasp for breath. The thick cotton of his pants rasped against her jeans, the only sound in this hushed room. Lifting his head, he spoke in Greek. He had a deep, gravelly voice and he rarely spoke much. Just to give her instructions. Her Greek was better than her Mandarin, but hardly fluent. In this situation, it didn’t have to be. “Skirt,” he said now. “Not trousers.”

It took her a minute to process the words, and she had to concentrate. Maybe it was time to buy that teach-yourself-Greek DVD. By the time she’d taken a step, he was on her, dragging down her zipper before he shoved her jeans down her legs. He thrust his hand between her thighs but the pants weren’t far enough down her legs for her to open them properly. Bending, he dragged off her sneakers and tossed them aside. They landed in dull thumps. Then he was back, tugging at her jeans again. He got one leg completely off but the other leg tangled around her ankles. She kicked, but it didn’t help.

With a rough word of frustration, a word she guessed must be a Greek curse, he stood once more, lifting her and setting her on a nearby table, dumping her as if she were a doll on the polished surface. She could only hope it would hold her weight because he didn’t give her a chance to protest. She gripped his shoulders as he pressed his nose against her crotch through her panties and inhaled noisily. His soft groan told her he liked it, that he wanted her.

He stood and her hands dropped to his chest, slid down the thin fabric over his lean but powerful muscles. Not bulky with gym-pressed goodness but strong as if he used them for his work. Maybe he was a builder or a construction worker, or maybe he worked at sea. Maybe a soldier.

She wanted him hot, exploring her near-naked body, taking her, forcing her to do what she wanted. Because he knew she wanted it too. He must know, from her response and the perfect way he took her.

He pushed his hand between her legs, forcing them open, and slid a finger under the elastic of her panties. She’d worn red silk for him. Stupid, unless she told him the color, but the texture was great and she knew she was wearing red. She needed that jolt of courage before she came here, or wherever he told her to be. Always a hotel, a good hotel. She found the keycard waiting for her at the desk when she asked for Nikos Sandaloros. Not his name, she was sure. She’d Googled it and found nothing relevant. She never called him Nikos. Only “Stranger”.

Strangers in the dark, meeting for anonymous, hot and dirty sex. That was the way it was meant to be. But Whitney is increasingly drawn to her Stranger, more than she should be. Even if once he sees her face, he’ll run screaming. Then Whitney receives an offer from the Durban Trust for cosmetic surgery. Although she knows looks don’t matter, they’ve cost her too many promotions. She has to change her face to change her life.

Her colleague Jay—reporter and thriller writer—has a secret to match Whitney’s. He’s her Stranger. He doesn’t give a damn about her face, but how does he tell her? Now Jay has two secrets. He put her forward for the surgery. Once he tells her, she’ll kick him out of her life, but he has to take that chance. He only wants her to get the job. Because she already has him. Hook, line and sinker.

News

“Tempting Spy” was released this month, and it’s had a great reception. This was the book I wrote after the sturm und drang of “Lisbon,” about which more later. A froth of a book, set in modern day London, this got me out of the writing slump I managed to get into. Sometimes when you try hardest, you end up with that kind of exhaustion.

And another new release this month! It’s “Bloody Crystal,” a brand new Department 57 book, and the last of the “Crystal” miniseries. Finally, the villain gets his comeuppance, though not in a way anyone expects. It starts in Llandudno, Wales, a charming little seaside down, of the gentrified Victorian variety, and ends in Chicago, via New York, all places I know and enjoy very much. It was a treat to be able to link some of my favourite places this way! The hero is Rhodri, a Welsh vampire. It would have been too easy in a way to make him a Welsh dragon! He meets Cerys, a young, inexperienced, but not innocent, vampire, and together they get far closer to their adversary than they would have done apart. When the Department gets involved, Cerys meets gorgeous merman Kai, the hero of “Crystal Tides” and a chilling Sorcerer, who help her and Rhodri in their time of peril.

This month I’m attending the Festival of Romance in King’s Langley, near Watford. It’s the UK’s first attempt at the kind of reader/writer convention that the US holds, and I’m very excited about it. Of course it’s a lot smaller than something like Romantic Times, but I think it will be choice. I’m on a panel about paranormal romance, and I’m introducing Gillian Greene, who is debuting Random House’s new Rouge imprint. If you want to know more, go here:

http://festivalofromance.co.uk/

It’s not too late to book! We are assured – there will be chocolate!

Considering that in June I had no scheduled releases for 2011, I’ve done a lot better than I thought, and written some stories I’ve absolutely adored writing. Earlier in the year I thought I’d drop the writing for a while, utterly exhausted by the work on Richard and Rose. I thought the mojo had well and truly gone. But I got back from Romantic Times and found a seam of creativity. Not historical, although that is beginning to come again, and I did write one more historical this year, but the other side, the danger and excitement side.

Someone told me that Mercury was in retrograde for much of the time, and that affects creative people. While I don’t really get on with astrology, sometimes you just have to accept that something is wrong, and maybe that’s it. I don’t know, but I do know a lot of people who’ve had problems this year.

Or maybe it’s the new market conditions. It’s changing so rapidly that people are being left behind, and other people are embracing it fully. The whole publishing world is on the move, and we won’t know what it looks like for a few years yet, I’m thinking. So I decided to watch it all and carry on writing. After all, that’s what I do!

Excerpt:

Of course, it’s “Bloody Crystal.” I love the cover. The artist, the excellent April Martinez, didn’t fall for the vampire-blood-red cliché, but gave me a cover that depicts the characters just as I saw them in my head, and a gorgeous green background. Anyway, I’d love you to buy it, as always, but if you don’t, I’ll love you anyway!

http://www.loose-id.com/Dept-57-Bloody-Crystal.aspx

There’s another excerpt on my website:

http://homepage.ntlworld.com/lynneconnolly/BloodyCrystal.html

Cerys is happy working in the bar in her home time of Llandudno, Wales. Nobody knows her secret until she meets dark, brooding Rhodri Tryfanwy. He knows her at once, because he’s like her. Vampire.

Rhodri sees the ethereal Cerys as everything he’s ever wanted. Light to his darkness, he takes her and she responds. Long nights of passion give him the hope he’d almost given up on finding. But events move too fast and Rhodri has to return to the dangerous, violent world of Department 57. His old adversary, Geoffrey Wilkinson, gives him no choice.

Thrown into a new world, Cerys is forced to leave everything she knows behind to search for him. She is Rhodri’s only chance. Without her help, he’ll be taken apart, piece by piece, and sold to people who will exploit what he is to make money and take power they’re not entitled to.

Chasing the enemy of the Department across the world, Cerys has to adapt fast to find the man whose only desire was to protect her. Without her love, he is dead. Without his love, she will want to die. Together, they can face anything.

In this excerpt, Cerys has fed on a drunk the night before, and Rhodri has taken her home and put her to bed.

Cerys rolled over and hit something solid. Something solid and warm. She came instantly awake, then wished she hadn’t. Her groan woke him up.

Slowly the memories of last night returned as he blinked and smiled at her, one hand under his cheek. He leaned up on one elbow, looking far too sexy for his own good. Or for her good, come to that. His short haircut meant he looked pretty much immaculate, even first thing in the morning. “You slept with me?”

He grinned unrepentantly. “There weren’t many other places.” He lost the grin. “Besides, I wanted to keep a close eye on you. The blood shouldn’t have affected you that much.”

“Why not?” She’d woken up with somebody else’s hangover before. It would clear soon. Already she could feel the headache lifting. A phantom hangover never lasted as long as the real thing, she assured herself, although when she moved, her stomach roiled alarmingly.

“It’ll pass soon.” That dark, soothing voice could guide her through dreams. “Close your eyes. I’ll make coffee and toast. If you have any.”

Nothing loath, she did as he commanded, for command it was, but his suggestion sounded good to her. Except for one thing. “Can you make it tea, please?”

“I can probably manage that.”

The old bedsprings sagged as he sat and got out of bed. She ventured a look. He was dragging a pair of jeans over a pair of white boxers, standing with his back to her. Probably just as well. But he had a beautiful arse, his buns tight and grabbable.

How could she be feeling like that when her stomach still rolled with the hangover? Although the headache was fading nicely.

By the time he returned with the promised tea and toast, she was feeling a whole lot better. He found a couple of cushions from the couch to prop behind her back and bolster the pillows, making her feel looked after. She hadn’t felt that way for so long. Not cosseted like this. Dave looked after her at work, running shotgun for her when customers got too rowdy. Nothing like this. He handed her the plate of toast, and their hands brushed.

Tingles sparked between them, shivering up her arm to her shoulder. She ignored them, but she didn’t ignore the attraction she felt for him. As yet she had no idea if he felt anything for her that was more than camaraderie and concern. And she wouldn’t let him see until she knew. She wasn’t that desperate.

He sat on the hard chair she usually kept flat against the wall, the twin to the one she used as a bedside table. She glanced at her watch. “I have to get to work by noon. I’m on the early shift today.”

“Does that place open all day?”

She bit into her toast and cleared her mouth before she answered him. “We open at noon and usually close at one or two a.m. Dave lets us go home early if the place clears. Saturdays we’re open later. That’s the worst night. But I can handle the rowdies.” She took another bite. “Too well, really. I have to pretend sometimes, let them think they’ve hurt me. But I’ve never had any real problems.”

“Until last night.”

“Yes. Until last night.” She chewed in silence and then reached for her tea, letting out a moan of contentment when the hot liquid hit her tonsils. She drained the mug, then stared at the bottom with disappointment. “Did you make a pot?”

“Yes.” He grinned and held out his hand for her empty mug.

This was too easy. She felt too comfortable with him. That ended when he leaned over her to put her tea on the impromptu bedside table. She smelled hot male and couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this close to one. She couldn’t help it. She had to touch.

She flattened her hand against his chest, rubbing to enjoy the feel of the hair sprinkling the tanned skin. He stilled, and his throat moved in a convulsive swallow. Then he looked at her.

Heat poured through her. Steaming, burning heat. He touched her mind with it, let her see it. “You should know if I start, I won’t stop. Don’t make me fuck a woman with a hangover.”

She wet her lips and watched his gaze follow the motion. “What hangover?” The tea and toast had taken care of most of it. Right now she wouldn’t have admitted to it, anyway. This man was the epitome of hot. Beautifully delineated features, sharp cheekbones, mobile lips, dark eyes lit with an inner flame. And the body was simply ripped. She’d been enjoying the sight of his powerful chest, framed with the broad shoulders just made for a woman to cling to.

And the casual use of the word “fuck.” She used it herself, but the way he used it made it sound like a caress, something she wanted above anything else.

“I want to hear the word,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “I want it. I want you.”

Whatever she planned to say next, he cut off with his mouth, bending to take her in a kiss, their first. He claimed her with that kiss, touched her lips with his tongue. His arms bracketed her, and the mattress dipped as he knelt on it.

And still he kissed her. She opened for him and let all that tea-flavored magnificence in. He was so big, although he hadn’t seemed that way against the giant Dave. But he was. He climbed over her and surrounded her with his heat, his cock a hard ridge through their clothes, pushing at her, making demands she was only too ready to fulfill.

September Newsletter

News

It’s been a quiet month, considering I had my first release since March! “Shifting Heat” has gone out into the atmosphere and I’m keeping my fingers crossed for it. I really love the hero, Andros, because he was dying, and had reconciled himself to it, but then got a second lease of life when he was converted into a shape-shifting dragon. All his troubles were over, right? Oh no, because inside, he still felt like the physically weak man he was for most of his life. He can’t take that final leap. Until he meets a woman who accepts him for who he is now, not who he was then. Anyway, love to hear your take on it!

And I have another release in September! How’s that for cool? This one is from Total E-Bound, and it’s a novella, called “Temporary Spy,” part of their “Tempting Temps” collection. Hopefully, it will come out in paperback, collected with a couple of others from the series, and it’s coming out in audiobook, too.

It was a treat to write. I wrote it straight after I’d finished and polished and rewritten “Lisbon,” the last Richard and Rose book, and that was so hard to write, with all the research, and keeping the timeline straight, and the writer’s block I was in denial about at the time, that it was lovely to turn to a one-off story set in a place I know well (London) about people with different problems. It was the fizz, the dessert, that I needed to get me out of the deep funk I was in. I find that helpful when I’m faced with a block – write something else! I think it’s partly fatigue, but also other things that are going on bleeding into the writing day. And I don’t talk about it, because, like depression, it’s something that has to be endured and got through.

So Tempting Spy is my fizz book, and there’s an excerpt below for you. I’ve put the first chapter. And it’s out from Total E-Bound on the 25^th September.

Other things? I’m currently writing the second “Trust” book, which I’ll send to my editor at Carina. I loved writing the first one, and it introduced a character I really wanted to know more about, so this is his story. How could I ignore the world of the Naples gangster, once I’d uncovered it? And while writing this book, I discovered a new to me setup, which will lead me into writing another one. It seems inevitable.

Some great news from Ellora’s Cave, which was leaked last week – prices to third party sellers like Amazon are going down! Unlike other epubs, Amazon did a test study, taking a few authors and experimenting with price points (all with the cooperation of the authors). It turned out to be a great success, and so the prices after October will be comparable to the prices you’ve always been able to get on EC’s website. Although I’ve never had any trouble, I know some people have difficulties with the site, so this is great news. Lower prices might mean a drop in royalties, or it might not – we’ll have to wait and see. But I honestly think that EC still has some of the best authors out there, and they deserve to be wider read. It’s still the market leader for erotic romance, and I can’t see that changing.

Not as good news on the Samhain front, for me at least. Still no word from my editor on the Richard and Rose and Freddy front, I’m afraid. I was asked to rewrite “Lisbon” twice, and she takes 12 weeks to read each rewrite. Since the books are still uncontracted, it looks like I won’t have a new Samhain book out in 2012, as they are now scheduling for 2013. However, “Maiden Lane” is coming out in print in February, yay! While I’m Samhain’s bestseller in historical romance, that doesn’t mean my sales compare to the erotics that constantly make the Samhain top ten these days. They are a great publisher, though, and I’ve loved my time there. Still will, if I can. I’ve decided to write a standalone historical, one from a potential series I’ve been thinking about for some time, and see how it does. I also have a historical paranormal out on query, so you never know…

From time to time madness takes me and I try to write a Harlequin Presents. These books are in every bookstore, all over the world, and while the money’s not great, the promotion and publicity is invaluable. My latest effort returned to me after a read and a discussion, so I intend to rewrite it a bit, deepen it and see where I can send it. I loved writing it. It’s about a girl who loves vintage and second hand clothes.

If any of you are reviewers, drop me a line. I’d love some reviews for the new releases! There are some on the way, but I’m greedy! They are – Shifting Heat, with Temporary Spy, Bloody Crystal (a new Dept 57 book) and Learning to Trust (romantic suspense) coming up soon.

And I think that’s about it for now. If you want to know anything, if I’ve missed anything out, shout out. And as always, thanks for being here. You make what I do real. Not to mention giving me the greatest reason for sitting at my computer for 12 hours a day, making stuff up!

Excerpt:

Finlay Scott knows someone is stealing his architectural designs, so he employs an agency that specialises in weeding out industrial spies. But he doesn't know they will send Beth, a woman he had a torrid affair with years before, and has been unable to forget.

Beth sees this job as paying off an old debt, but matters get much further, much faster, and they're soon seeing how many office surfaces can take both their bodies.

Excerpt (over 18’s only, please):

Beth stretched, raising hands to the sky. “What time is it?”

Joy favoured her with a glance. “A quarter to five. The boss wants to see you at five. Chances are he’ll send you back to the agency.”

“What makes you say that?” She got it, she really did. Joy wanted Finlay. Well, as far as she was concerned, Joy was welcome to him. She was here to pay back a debt, that was all. And to see justice done in the best traditions of a superhero. Pity she wasn’t one, but she did her best to behave like a reasonable human being, unlike some people not too far away from here.

She grimaced. She had rather overdone it, screwing up the filing. Maybe if she made up for it in the next hour it would give Finlay a chance to rehire her. Not that he knew she was here. After all, she’d only started two days ago when he’d been in Rome and she was only here until she’d accomplished her task.

She stared at her computer screen. Joy had given her some standard letters to type, print and send. Her typing wasn’t perfect, but she could manage the computer formatting. She had the same program at home. So she set to it and, by five, she had half a dozen letters typed and printed out, ready for his signature. Glancing up from her screen, she gave Joy a tentative smile. “I’m sorry about the filing. I guess I was nervous.”

Joy sniffed and leaned against the copier, folding her arms across her chest. “I daresay. But you’ll have to put in some fancy talking if you want to stay here.”

“I do. Is fancy talking all that’s required?” She gave a winsome smile, and rested her arms on the sides of her chair.

Joy glared at her. “He doesn’t mix business and pleasure. Ever.”

Beth made sure Joy saw the up and down she gave her, paying special attention to that tight red skirt. “You could have fooled me.”

“It’s actually very comfortable. I wear it a lot.” I bet you do. But Beth didn’t say it aloud. The skirt showed the cleft between her buttocks. Puppies in a sack, she’d thought as she’d watched Joy sashay into Finlay’s office earlier.

Beth had actually suffered a pang of jealousy—her first for, well, two years. Nearly three. She’d worked so hard in the intervening years, she’d hardly noticed the time going by. Until, that was, she lay in her bed at night. Alone.

Joy gave her a warmer smile. “This is his favourite skirt. He never says, but I can tell. He was disappointed when I couldn’t go to Rome with him last week, but it couldn’t be helped. I think one of those letters you’re typing was thanks to the hotel? He likes to do that.” She sighed. “He wants to be sure of the room next time.”

She had noticed that. Joy had booked a one-bedroom suite. “He takes you every time?”

“Always,” Joy purred. “He wouldn’t go without me.”

Her inference was clear. Keep off! In a perverse way, Beth felt glad that Joy would even see her as a rival.

Beth gathered the papers together and tidied the edges, doing her best to ignore her trembling hands. She had to face him sooner or later. “Should I go in now, or wait until he calls for me?”

Joy grinned at her. “Go in, just knock and enter. He likes punctuality and he doesn’t like formality.”

Why did she suspect that friendly smile? Probably for good reason. But she did as Joy told her, knocked and went straight in.

Finn’s head jerked up. “Didn’t Joy tell you not to come in until…” His voice tailed off. “Fuck, oh fuck.” He sounded entirely different now, unsure and astonished.

“Where have you been? Where did you come from?”

Too late to retreat. He knew her, and nothing had changed from the last time they’d seen each other. Except that the desire between them seemed to have increased, if anything. She hadn’t thought that possible, had hoped it had died. Some hope.

Beth closed the door hastily as he got to his feet and rounded the desk, heading for her with a determination she couldn’t avoid. She took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. Her back hit the door as he reached her, and she got barely a glimpse of his eyes, hot with passion, before his mouth descended on hers.

All her good intentions melted when his arms enclosed her, all thoughts of keeping her distance disappeared. Hunger replaced reason.

With his mouth locked to hers, she knew they wouldn’t stop there, wanted more of him. His mouth worked hers, persuaded her to open to him and he took possession, eating at her as if he’d starved for a year or more. She knew because she’d felt the same way. She gripped his forearms, felt handfuls of crisp shirt fabric, and held on. Her head went back under the pressure of his, hitting the door with another thud.

He dragged his mouth away from hers, but only to stare at her, as if he couldn’t believe it. “Oh my God, you’re here, it’s really you!” With a groan, he settled his mouth on hers again. And this time he put his hands to work, gripping her waist then sliding up, bringing her top with them. He kissed down her neck to the place where her throat met her shoulders and she was toast. Lost. She breathed deep, inhaling the scent of shampoo and Boss and him. It felt like coming home.

But a home filled with turbulence. Shock reverberated through her system, but he was already replacing it with desire and swiftly escalating it to desperate need. He touched her bare skin and she shuddered, then he undid the buttons of her top and she helped him, let him draw it off her and toss it aside. His gaze stroked her with an intensity that made her shudder. As he watched, she lifted away from the door, took her hands off him and reached behind to unhook her bra.

When her breasts tumbled free, his hands were waiting to capture them. He gasped when he touched them, but she nearly drowned the sound he made with her soft moan. “I didn’t come for this.”

“But this is what you’re going to get.” His low, trembling voice increased the intimacy between them, his hot breath gusting against her skin, raising goosebumps where it touched her. He caressed her breasts, cupped the soft weights with his hands, the calluses rasping deliciously against her. She shuddered and pushed herself into him, urging him to do more.

“Come here.” In a sudden movement, he released her, grabbed her waist and pulled her even closer. His starched shirt hit her bare skin, the warmth of his body underneath tantalising her with its propinquity. She ripped at the fabric between them until it separated at the front. Then, with a sigh of relief, she touched him, slid her hands over the hard curves of his heated flesh and the tiny points of his nipples, as hard as hers were.

“Finn, oh, Finn.”