“If I come inside tonight, I’m not returning to the hotel. I want you to know if we go inside, I’m staying.”
I smiled at him in the darkness with only the street lights for illumination.
The unsnapping of his seat belt echoed around us.
“Eager much?” I teased.
He growled and opened his door. “Coming?” he glanced at me.
“God I hope so. And soon,” I mumbled softly under my breath.
“Come again?” He grinned.
My mind told me we needed to talk.
My heart told my mind to shut it.
My body ignored both of them and hummed with anticipation.
When we made it inside the house, he pinned me against the wall and crushed my mouth with his. In romance writing there was a trope about tongues battling for dominance. I never understood the appeal or the action until that kiss.
Massacred any resistance I still held.
I rubbed against him like a cat. Yearning for Shiva’s multiple arms, my hands touched everywhere they could reach. They tangled into his hair, ran over his shoulders, inside his coat, under his sweater, and over his lower back before coming to rest on his ass.
When we broke apart, panting for oxygen, he asked, “Am I forgiven?”
“Less talking tonight. Talk tomorrow,” I said between pecks across his scruffy jaw. I nipped the smooth spot under his ear and inhaled a big dose of his pheromones. Not that I needed them. “Upstairs.”
He guided me toward the stairs. With a single smooth swoop, he lifted me into his arms and carried me upstairs. Normally, I would have complained about weighing too much, or not wanting him to hurt his back, but the way he held me made me feel light, even dainty. And I wasn’t fool enough to argue.
When he set me on the bed, I fell into the soft down of the duvet. Staring up at him, I remembered our first night together at his hotel. We might have had sex seven hundred ways to Sunday between now and then, but now, this, felt like the first time all over again.
“You said no talking, but I’m not very good at following rules, so I’m ignoring your request for a second.” His dimple appeared. “I love you, Selah. Not a temporary kind of love either. I didn’t stop after our disastrous phone call, and I don’t have plans to stop. Ever.”
“I love you. Truly, madly, deeply,” I whispered, lost in the depths of his eyes.
He shook his head and chuckled. “You just quoted One Direction.”
“Pretty sure it was a movie title first.” I sighed and rolled my eyes. “You know One Direction song titles?”
About the Book:
Love? Not my thing.
I didn't do love or butterflies, but I loved him.
I was screwed, and not in a good way.
Selah Elmore is a smart, independent woman who knows exactly who she is and what she wants. She loves her life being a professor and popular pirate erotica author. However, when she leaves the Pacific Northwest to spend six months studying sculpture in West Africa, she learns she doesn't know a thing about love.
Cocky, suit-wearing Gerhard charms her during a stopover in Amsterdam, but dashing, adventurous Kai sweeps her off her feet in Ghana.
Sparks fly on three continents when perpetually single Selah discovers there's more to love and life than she ever imagined.
Before writing bestselling contemporary adult romances, I dreamed of being an author while doing a lot of other things. Antiques dealer, baker, blue ribbon pie-maker, fangirl, freelance writer, gardener, pet mom and wife are a few of the other titles I've acquired over the years.
Born and raised in San Diego, I currently lives in a real life Stars Hollow in the Boston suburbs with my husband, our dog Hubbell, and an imaginary house goat.
Missionary Position is a spin-off from my first novel, Geoducks Are for Lovers. Like my second novel, Ready to Fall, it can be read as a standalone contemporary romance/romantic comedy.