Excerpt for Dinner and a Movie: releasing soon at Purple Sword Publications!
Bernie’s mouth went dry. Bumps broke out across her skin. She took a breath, but it caught in the back of her throat. She cast a quick glance at the shadowed hall. It beckoned to her.
Do something impetuous…he’s interested.
Are you an idiot? Can’t you see his hard-on? He’s some kind of perv.
Her nipples tightened against the silk of her lacy bra. What kind of perverted things would he want?
She backed down one more step and checked who might be witnessing the tall guy’s advance. The host ran his pen over his reservation book—no help there. A couple of teenagers hovered near the door, clearly hoping to be seated. At last she looked over her shoulder, peering in the depths of the dining room. Sheila sat in the far corner, sipping at a martini. Would she really care if Bernie…
The guy grinned and muttered in his low voice, “It’s only just over there. I’m not going to abduct you.”
Tall, well-built, an educated voice, carefully trimmed hair…his entire body screamed conservative, safe. Bernie quelled the urge to frown. She didn’t want safe, but this was the first guy who seemed to be interested in her in an eternity. And there were the goosebumps…
His long fingers wrapped around her wrist. “Come.” He tugged.
Bernie’s stomach did a little flip and her panties dampened with desire. Then the little voices started again.
Come on, admit it, girl. You want him. Live a little. Maybe take him to bed. Your big girl boobs wouldn’t crush him. He might even be able to get you to orgasm.
She took one step up. And then another. “Just for a moment.”
His grasp firmed as he led her toward the restrooms. “What’s your name?”
The careful little girl pushed her demon to the side. “I don’t know yours.”
“Liam.” He edged her against the wall between the men’s and ladies. “Liam Clarke. Are you meeting somebody?”
Bernie attempted to slow her breathing. The wall at her back and his wide chest in front made her feel small. He left a tiny opening to their left, but it wasn’t really enough to escape through. He still held her. Her wrist tingled from his touch. She pulled once, her stomach dropping when he failed to release her. “Yes, Sheila’s already ordered drinks.” She tamped down the seductive tickle of fear as he leaned forward.
“Just your friend?” His breath tickled her ear.
She licked her lips, swallowed and stared up into light green eyes that didn’t smile. He appeared focused on her every small move. His inhalations matched hers in depth. What was she doing? Bernie tugged again at her wrist—she wanted to touch. Flashes of skin and sweat shot through her body.
“Your name?” he persisted.
Something inside her surrendered. “Bernie.”
“Bernie.” His lips brushed her hair. “My God, you have a beautiful body. I want it. I’ve never wanted a woman like this.” His other hand grasped her upper arm, pulling her closer to him. “And Sheila? What were your plans tonight?”
A question…he asked a question. “Dinner and then dancing.”
He exhaled a deep breath of disappointment and then released her. She sagged against the wall. Every muscle quivered with want. His lips, a dark, dusty rose were just an inch too high. His very size encouraged her to be bold, hungry. This man possessed enough muscle and height that she didn’t need to fear hurting him with her size. Her demon urged her to push away from the wall, then to run a finger down the long length of his chest, pause and then brush the swell of his cock under his neatly pressed pin-stripe suit.
“And you?” she asked. “You must be meeting somebody.”
He crowded her back, his weight pressing against the entire length of her body. Her clothes felt too tight, too many. Her thong bit into the swelling flesh around her pussy.
“A business meeting. One of the equipment reps is in town. He wants to sell me some weights. We both like Italian.” Time passed as sweat beaded on his upper lip. His eyebrows tightened while he appeared to think. Bernie had no idea how he was managing that feat at the moment. She couldn’t stop staring into his clear green eyes…
“Perhaps you might accept the request of a double date?”
Bernie rested her head against the wall. His hands skimmed over her hips. Free, hers ran up the front of his suit. Hard muscles beneath a dark blue silk shirt met her seeking fingers.
In the recesses of her brain, the dutiful little angel answered his question. “No date. Sheila is just divorced. Tonight was gonna be a night just for her. I couldn’t ruin it.”
Her eyes closed in bliss as he traced her lips. “You have a soft heart, Miss Bernie.”
Small bursts of joy rippled through her body in response to his compliment. But the use of ‘Miss Bernie’ created new urgent responses deep within. She purred and arced into him. Her demon murmured into his ear, “Say that again, Mr. Clarke.”
She pulled back just enough. Heat and moisture collected in the wisp of space between their mouths. A spark leapt across the void.
His mouth took hers, hard. His tongue surged past her teeth and ferreted out every crevice of moisture remaining in her mouth. The light from the wall sconce dimmed. The sounds of silverware and glass vanished, leaving only his pulse pounding against hers. Her limbs weakened. Her entire world tilted.
Anything. She would do anything for this man. His touch. His voice.
