Welcome to another LoveCats DownUnder Sunday Smooch!
Today we have a smooch from Amy Andrews but first ... the winner of last week's Sunday Smooch Giveaway is Veronica!
Can you please contact Helen Lacey at helenlaceyauthor (at) gmail (dot) com to receive your copy of The Secret Son's Homecoming.
And now for today's Sunday Smooch from Playing Dirty.......
Val King. Oh shit.
Coach has one hard and fast rule: Never, ever date (much less f*ck ten ways to Sunday) his daughter. And not only did Kyle break that rule, but he wants to break it over and over again. In the shower. Against a wall. On every flat surface in his home.
But the coach and his daughter share more than just DNA. Their issues run deep and fooling around with her could widen the family chasm. And get Kyle benched for life.
So why can’t he stop thinking about her? Flirting with her? Suggesting they date for real and damn the consequences?
Val has just let Kyle pick her up in a bar. She knows he's her father's star new recruit to the Sydney Smoke rugby team, but he has no clue she's his boss's daughter.
And that she's a whole lotta off limits.
She's gone back to his place for some sexy fun times because it is her birthday and because its the ultimate screw you to her father. She knows she's going to hate herself in the morning but right now is all that matters. Right now and their first kiss....
Touch. She had to touch him. A distant siren wailed in through the open glass doorway. A wise person might have taken it as some kind of portent, but Val was too far gone to pay any heed.
She took the one step required to bring her body up against his and swore she heard the sizzle as her nipples came into contact with the smooth hardness of his chest. She certainly heard the quick, rough intake of his breath. Rising to her toes, she slid her hands around his neck, their mouths so very, very close.
But there were parts of them that were closer. Val was excruciatingly aware that only two scraps of fabric were keeping them decent, and the hard ridge of his erection was pressing against the screamingly sensitive flesh between her legs.
It took all her willpower not to grind against him. As if he knew it, his hands came to rest in the small of her back, his fingers splaying again, pressing her closer.
“I think it’s time—” She stopped to draw in a ragged breath. There wasn’t enough air in her lungs when she was this close to him. “For my birthday kiss.”
His mouth was so close it almost brushed against hers as his lips broke into a smile. “I think it’s past time.”
“Okay. Don’t move,” she whispered. “Let me.”
He didn’t move. He stayed perfectly still as she fitted her mouth to his. So still she could feel the tension of his neck muscles and the rigidity of his abs and quads, the steel band of his hands in her lower back. But he let her lead, standing passively in the circle of her arms as she nibbled and tasted his mouth, her tongue licking along the seam of his lips. They parted under her probe, and she moaned triumphantly as she tasted beer.
Val’s senses swam with it, and she pulled back, temporarily overloaded. By him, by who he was, by what she was doing. She shut her eyes as she ran her tongue over her lips, savouring his taste, humming her approval. Her eyes fluttered open to find him watching her intensely.
“Sweet?” He made a low, growly noise at the back of his throat. “Fuck that.”
He kissed her then. Really kissed her. A proper birthday kiss. Nothing sweet about it. Not one little bit.
It was hard and fast and dirty, the power of it crowding her backwards. Back, back, back until her ass and shoulder blades hit the wall. Val barely noticed as his tongue—his clever, clever tongue every bit as good as he’d promised—took full possession. A hand slid under her hair, clamping at her nape while his mouth roved over hers, twisting and turning and demanding that she answer him back with the same fervour.
And she did. God help her, she did. Every desperate breath she sucked in around the demands of his mouth was full of him.
Full of beer and voodoo. Heady. Intoxicating her beyond all reason.
It was the kind of kiss that belonged in a movie. That was hot and effortless and arousing. That made the audience tingle and sigh and yearn. Made them pull over the car on the way home for a quickie.
As abruptly as it’d started, it stopped, and Val was thankful for the solid presence of the wall behind her as her knees almost went from under her.
She could hardly hear him above the hammer of her heart, let alone form coherent words. She made some kind of nonsensical noise instead, which he clearly took for agreement.
“Good.” He slid his hands to the backs of her thighs and lifted her. “Plenty more where that came from.”
Thanks for reading folks! I thought you all might appreciate a picture of my feet! Faces are so boring :-)
Val's drinking martinis when Kyle stops for a chat. For your chance to win a digital copy of Playing Dirty (must have an Amazon account) let me know in the comments what's your drink of choice when you go to a bar.
Come back next Sunday, when the winner of today's
giveaway will be announced and a smooch will be posted!
Smooch Graphic by WebWeaver