I’ve lost count how many times I’ve been trying to write a summer story, while rain has been beating against the windows and I’ve been huddling next to the fire to keep warm. I end up writing snowy winter scenes when the temperature is nudging OMG-It’s-Hot. Why can’t I write to the season I’m in? My muse is clearly still confused about us moving 12,000 miles to the other side of the world. Down here in New Zealand, we celebrate Christmas in the middle of summer. Long, hot days filled with beach walks and ice creams, and often a BBQ for Christmas Dinner. You can see how my muse struggles.
Now, for maybe the first time, I’m finally writing a story set in the right time of year. It’s winter here, and my story is set in a freezing November in Wales.
There’s something sexy about writing winter scenes, where your characters have to snuggle up to keep warm. My current WIP has a lot more than snuggling though. It’s the third in the Talisman series, and is another dark paranormal romantic suspense.
Here’s an unedited snippet to whet your appetite.
Addiction (Talisman #3)
Dante shouldered his backpack and then climbed aboard his black, shiny motorbike, before fitting his helmet. The engine roared to life and with a final nod to me, he cruised slowly down the drive. The security gates would open automatically to let him exit.
I stood and watched, and then heard another noise, another bike. Rather than going back inside, I lurked on the doorstep. It had to be Krista and it was. God, she looked hot when she climbed off her bike in an elegant sweep of leather. Even the way she tugged off the helmet was sexy, all that thick hair tumbling free. All that paled into comparison with the tremulous smile on her face, the smile aimed in my direction.
“Matty.” She took a step toward me, pushing one hand through her hair, the dreads shining under the security light. The breath caught in my chest. “Oh, Matty. God. I need you.” Every molecule of blood shot straight to my cock and left me light headed.
I tried to speak, but my tongue had become glued to the roof of my mouth. I couldn’t do anything except stare as Krista covered the short distance between us to stand in front of me. Were they tears on her eyelashes? Moisture shimmered in her eyes and her lower lip wobbled. Something – or someone – had upset her. The bold and confident seductress had been replaced by this vulnerable girl and my brain did a slow one-eighty turn. She wants comfort, not a kiss, you jerk.
Praying my rampant hard-on wouldn’t be noticed, I opened my arms and she nestled into me without hesitation. “Thank you,” she whispered. What the hell was I doing? Krista placed her cheek onto my chest and I realised how much shorter she was. A perfect fit. Don’t think like this. I also realised she was trembling.
I fought for control of my wayward libido. “You, uh, okay?” Dumb question. She’s crying and shaking, and nestled in my arms under the floodlight. Where her husband can see us. And God, it was amazing.
“Not really.” She clung tighter, her hands curling into the front of my shirt. Funny how I didn’t feel cold any more. Her hair, that glorious, wild hair smelled of pine trees and moss and I drew the scent into my lungs.
“Do you, uh, want to talk about it?” Talking might mean a chance to hold her for longer.
She shook her head, and then lifted it, seeking my gaze. “I can’t.”
My mind shot off at a tangent. With her eyes locked on to mine, everything around me failed to exist. My entire focus narrowed down to a single point, the need to kiss her. As though she heard my mind working, she swallowed and then licked her lips. I couldn’t tear my sight away from her perfect mouth. I tried one last time for common sense.
“What about…” I fumbled for his name. Her husband. Ben? Barry? “Baz. What about Baz?” I couldn’t kiss her again, not here, yards from where he probably slept.
“What about Baz?” She eased closer, her lips just a heartbeat away. “Has my brother warned you off?” Amusement flashed in her eyes.
Brother? What brother? Duh. The cog dropped into place with a resounding clunk, but I needed to be sure. “Baz isn’t your husband?”
She froze. My heart plummeted, but then she laughed. Soft and musical, her laughter reminded me of trickling stream water. “He’s my brother.” She stroked my cheek with one chilled finger. “Can I kiss you now?”
For the second time in as many minutes I was lightheaded, but this time with relief, and I stalled for a moment while I gained my equilibrium. “We haven’t actually been introduced. I’m Matthew Woodrow, Sylvie’s brother, and AJ’s new production assistant.”
Her finger came to rest on my lips and she smiled. “Krista Inglewood. I prefer Matty, though.”
I was done talking. I leaned into her, just a fraction and claimed her mouth. We’d already done the introductory getting-to-know-you kiss and now I dived straight into hot-and-heavy. God. She just about detonated in my arms. Her lips were cold and tasted faintly of salt – she’d been crying – but she was sweet inside and I explored her mouth shamelessly with my tongue. Her hair cried out to be touched and I dug one hand into the thick locks, holding her in exactly the right position to push the kiss deeper.
She made a little noise of approval and shifted to curl an icy hand around my neck, pulling my head down to meet her even closer. I was intoxicated. One kiss made me giddy, and I wanted more. I wanted all of her. I slid a hand down her leather-clad back to her oh-so-pert ass, and cupped it, digging my fingers into the denim. She couldn’t have missed my hard-on. My dick pulsed and strained at my zipper, begging to be released and I let my imagination go into freefall.
When she tugged at the button on my jeans, I groaned into her mouth. Words were impossible and my heart was banging against my ribs so hard I wondered if she could hear it? I sank my teeth into her full bottom lip and considered if I could really fuck her here, on Alex’s doorstep, under a floodlight? Krista seemed to think so. She attacked my zipper and tugged it down far enough to shove her hand inside. Christ. I nearly came in my boxers.
Fuck. The sudden darkness made my heart stutter. Krista froze too, and then exhaled in a huff of warm breath. “Shit,” she whispered. “I thought I’d gone blind.” Common sense chimed in the recesses of my blood-starved brain. The light had gone out. If we stood very still, the sensor wouldn’t trip and we’d remain in the dark.
I nuzzled at her lips, finding her in the pitch-blackness of the night. “You do realise,” I murmured, “the second we move, the light comes back on.”
“Mm-huh.” I felt her fingers wriggle inside the elastic of my boxers, achingly close to my stiff cock. “You’d better stay still, then.”
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