Yours in Lust
A stack of dirty letters isn’t the only thing Everleigh will discover this summer…
The last thing I expected to find in my new apartment was a hidden stash of erotic letters. Or that I would obsess over them like a sex-starved woman, but I can’t help it. The mystery man’s words seep inside me until I’m so hot I can barely breathe. My fantasy life instantly revolves around his letters, and with my grumpy, but incredibly hot neighbor as the star. It’s his deep voice I imagine whispering those dirty words in my ear, his dark gaze moving over my skin, and his hands making all those naughty promises come true.
Then one day I don’t have to imagine anymore.
He’s only supposed to be my fantasy. Except now I want my fantasy to be my reality. Can I be his forever…or am I only his in lust?
Excerpt
“I’m Everleigh, by the way. I don’t think we’ve officially introduced ourselves.”
He looks at me then. His dark gaze moves over my face, as if he’s committing it to memory. Then his gaze dips lower, moving all over my body. And I feel it…God…everywhere. My overstimulated body seems to be jumping up and down saying, yes please…touch me…take me. His gaze returns to my face. “Everleigh.”
It’s as if the memorization process is over and I’m now filed away in a manila folder with my name stamped on top. Except the way he says my name is far from clinical. No, there’s something possessive in his voice. Like my file is coveted. For his eyes only.
I exhale a shaky breath and he looks away making me wonder if I imagined it all. He takes a few more steps into my apartment. He sees the bookcase and walks to it. “So, where do you want it?”
Loaded question.
Okay, horny brain, you need to go away.
He’s looking at me expectantly. Does he not realize he never told me his name?
“And your name is?”
His brows bunch together, but he doesn’t say anything.
“You do know your name, right?”
He gives a growl of frustration. “Gage. Are we going to move this or not?”
Gage. I should give him the same once-over he gave me, but I don’t need my body acting up any more than it already is. What I really need is to get him out my apartment before I do something stupid, like climb his body.
“Bedroom.”
He jerks and stiffens to a straight posture. “What?”
“I want it at the foot of the bed.”
He lets out a little coughing sound, staring at me shell-shocked.
“The bookcase. At the foot of the bed.”
He blinks, his gaze jumping from me to the bookcase as a deep red blooms in his cheeks. “Oh. Right.”