A shared fetish should be a pleasure, not a battleground, but for Zara and Charlie, it was war.
Charles, Earl of Woodhouse, loves women in corsets, and Zara Myers loves wearing them, but after one night of fierce passion, it all went wrong. Forced into a marriage of convenience, they have to learn to live with each other out of bed as well as in.
Charlie introduces Zara to the joys of tight lacing, and Zara discovers the Big O, but despite that, she won't give in and give Charlie complete ownership. If they weren't married, she could take what he'd given her and walk away, but she can't do that now. She'll stay and fight.
As she learns to master the new feelings he's brought to her, Zara learns how she can use it to bring even greater pleasure to herself and her husband.
Charlie's not ready for the way Zara blows his mind anytime he's near her. Used to controlling his life, even down to the women he takes to his bed, he's not sure he likes losing it so completely. It takes a new kind of bravery for him to face this unexpectedly strong woman.
eBook ISBN ·
Publisher ·Loose-Id Publishing
Genre · Contemporary Erotic Romance
Length · Novel
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You must be 18 or older to read the following excerpt.
“Why the fuck would you want me?” she demanded before she could control her unruly tongue. He had gorgeous women like Tanya to play with. Why her? She had no illusions; she knew she had a certain appeal, but she also knew she fell short of stunning beauty, the sort that had men chasing after her.
His shoulders moved in an easy shrug. From the movement she knew his jacket had the bare minimum of padding, and in a flash she was back with wondering what he looked like naked. Snap out of it, she told herself. That wasn’t what she was here for, and in any case he was well out of her league.
“You have an air about you—I want to find out more.” He grinned. “And I want to see that corset.”
“What?” Shock lanced through her, rooting her to the spot.
One corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “I could hardly miss it when we danced, could I? You intrigue me, Zara.”
She wanted to tell him she would bet he told that to all the girls, but the words stilled on her tongue. He wouldn’t let her look away, or she couldn’t. She didn’t know which. When she lifted her hand, he caught it with his own, much larger one, and tugged her closer. His voice lowered. “First I want to know what you taste like.”
That was the only warning she had before her breasts hit his chest and he bent his head to take her mouth in a ravishing kiss.
Firm, warm lips conquered her decision to behave herself. She reached up with her free hand and instead of shoving him away as she should, she spread her fingers over his hard chest. His warmth soaked through her, up her arm, suffusing every part of her.
With a little groan of satisfaction that destroyed her resolve, he touched her lips with his tongue. Unable to resist, she opened her mouth and he took possession. He locked his arms around her, surrounding her, holding her safe. But she found more danger there than anywhere else.
He plunged his tongue into her mouth with an eagerness she reciprocated. Then he gentled his tasting, caressing her tongue with his, coaxing her to open wider for him. He hauled her closer, the fabric of his shirt no barrier to his hardness, surrounding her with heat and taste. The sights and sounds of the lobby outside the ballroom faded into insignificance. Only they existed in this world of their own making. Only he mattered.
Zara slid her arms around his waist, clutched his shirt, and held on for dear life. Her hands encompassed everything she wanted. He took her on a journey far beyond this place, and now instead of stale wine and overpungent air freshener, all she could smell was him, his light cologne laced with the intoxicating scent of hot, sexy man.
She reached up, stood on tiptoe to give him better access. He turned his head to one side so their mouths fitted together better, taking her from a different angle. His breath heated her cheek, and she leaned back, feeling totally safe in his arms. And heard his murmur. “Fuck.”
The cool tones of Tanya Yates-Whittaker broke into the spell with the effectiveness of a bucket of cold water. “Darling, if you’ve quite finished, I’m ready to leave now.”
Zara gasped, dragged her mouth away, and pushed him, staggering back a step. The pen fell between them with a clatter, a hard reminder of why she’d come to him.
Charlie didn’t let her go. He caught her hand and pulled her back to his side. Rather than engage in an undignified struggle, she stayed there. He blinked, stared at her, and she watched his dilated eyes return to normal until the blue showed again. She tugged his hand but stopped when, with iron determination, he pulled her closer. “I think you’ll have to face the paparazzi alone tonight, Tanya.”
Tanya’s mouth dropped open. “Oh no. No, you don’t. You came here with me. You leave with me.”
Charlie glanced at Zara. “I suppose I should.” He grimaced and released her. Had he been as stunned by the encounter as her? Not likely. Not possible. He was probably using her in some way, to keep distance between him and his girlfriend. Men did that, and Charlie might well be the commitment-shy type. His reputation certainly intimated that. A spark of anger ignited inside her, and she tried to fan the flames because without the reminder, she was lost.
What had just happened? If Tanya hadn’t interrupted them, they might be ripping each other’s clothes off by now. She didn’t think she was capable of that kind of behavior. She’d met rich, famous, powerful men before. He’d delved into her very being with that kiss, asked her questions she’d never even thought of before. She must be crazy.
Tanya’s voice, as clear and cold as glass, rang out. “On the other hand, I’m all grown-up now and I’m quite capable of facing the press on my own. You stay here and deal with your little—“ She waved a hand in Zara’s direction. “Get it out of your system, darling. I’ll be waiting.”
With an elegant spin on her six-inch heels, she turned her back and walked away.
Zara watched her down the grand staircase. Tanya’s back stiffened, and her head went back. Zara didn’t have to see the woman’s face to know she was wearing a jaunty smile, ready for her encounter with the paparazzi outside. Even while fury simmered through her veins from Tanya’s last, spiteful comment, she admired the woman’s nerve.
To give herself time, she bent to retrieve Charlie’s pen. His voice came from a distance, it seemed, as she straightened. The blood must have rushed directly to her head, because through a momentary dizziness, she heard him say, “When I told Tanya it was finished between us, we’d already arranged this date. She said she’d find her own way home tonight, so that was a flounce. I was wondering if I should make sure she got home or come back to see you.”
Zara would have moved away, but she still had his pen. Somehow it became imperative that she give it back to him. She thrust it at him. “Here. You dropped it.”
He took it, and his fingers brushed hers. She didn’t imagine the last, lingering touch to the side of her little finger, so fleeting, yet she felt it in every pore of her body. His voice softened. “Thank you.”
“Like a child in a toyshop, you saw another plaything and dropped your old one to get it?” The situation was stacking up that way.
He gave a wry grin but shook his head. “I gave Tanya that sapphire necklace as a farewell present, and she knows it. I thought long and hard about what she’d like, so it wasn’t exactly an impulsive decision.”
Real sapphires? That amazing pendant Tanya wore was real? Shit.
“She’s trying to ruin it for us.”
Shocked, she blurted, “But there is no us.”
“Want to bet?”
He jerked on her hand, dragging her against him once more, and slammed his mouth down on hers, giving her no quarter. This time he kissed her with a deeper, hotter intent, a passion she couldn’t deny or fail to respond to. She attacked him back, curling her hand around his neck to draw him possessively to her. This man was lethal. Irresistible.
He turned them, and the wall pressed against her back. When he crushed his body against hers, she felt his erection, insistent and bold, demanding entry. Despite their clothes, she imagined she could feel every hard ridge. Stunned, she could do nothing but respond and hold on for dear life.
Until she heard someone say, “Get a room.”
What the fuck was she doing? Slapping her hands against his chest, she pushed, but she might as well have been shoving a rock for all the effect she had. He lifted his head, his lips red and wet from her kiss. “Not a bad idea. But stop shoving at me, darling. I’ll get bruises.”
Could she really be considering such madness? Go to bed with this devastatingly sexy man who was obviously so into her he couldn’t wait? What the fuck was she thinking?
He took her mouth again but kept it brief and to the point before drawing away to stare down at her. “Well?”
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