Surrender to Temptation Part II: Tempted to Rebel by Lauren Jameson Page A
Authors: Lauren Jameson
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finally spoke, his voice still husky from sleep.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Read more of Devon and Zachariah’s tumultuous passion in
Part III of SURRENDER TO TEMPTATION
TEMPTED TO OBEY
Available from InterMix on January 15, 2013
And keep reading for a special preview of
Lauren Jameson’s upcoming erotic romance novel,
BLUSH
Available from NAL in May 2013
Many people would look uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny that I have been directing his way. This man doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blush, doesn’t toss me a cocky smile. Instead he returns my stare, unabashed, stoic even, letting me look my fill. He doesn’t touch me, either, but after he sets the glass down, I feel as if his hands had been all over me.
“Let me get you something else wet.” I think he smirks now, just the smallest upturn of his lips, but the expression is gone before I can be certain. Certainly he hasn’t meant the double entendre that has leapt into my head.
He waves the bartender over and speaks; I am not listening and don’t hear what he orders. I am busy focusing intently on not making a fool of myself—that, and wondering why on earth such a desirable man is here, talking to me.
“There.” The man eases himself up onto the stool beside me and turns to face me. Our knees bump together, and I get the impression that he has done it on purpose.
“Now. Why are you so nervous, so uptight, that my ‘hello’ makes you spill your drink?” He steeples his fingers, rests his chin on them, and looks right into my eyes. I feel like a bug pinned on the wall.
“I . . . I . . .” I can’t tell him why. It’s stupid. No, it’s not stupid, but it would
seem
stupid to someone who doesn’t know me, who doesn’t know what I’ve been through or why I’ve done the things that I’ve done.
The man frowns when I don’t reply, and I feel, again, a bit like a child being scolded. Then he smiles again, a seductive smile right at me, and the sun seems to shine through a batch of rain clouds.
“Let’s start with something easier, then.”
The bartender arrives at that moment, setting down a fat wine bottled with an elongated neck and two stemmed glasses. The man pays it not a whit of attention, keeping his eyes intently latched on my own.
I am growing very warm.
“My name is Alex Fraser. What is yours?” He seems keenly interested in the answer.
“Um.” Why on earth does he care? Why do I care why he cares? “Maddy. Maddy Stone.”
He nods as if he has never heard anything so interesting. “And is ‘Maddy’ short for anything?”
“Madeline.” My voice is soft, but I can’t seem to speak any louder.
“Well, then.” Enormously pleased, the man I now know as Alex Fraser turns and pours two small glasses of the liquid from the bottle, which is already uncorked. He hands me one, and though I can feel the heat of his hand as I wrap my own around the glass stem, he doesn’t touch me.
I find myself oddly disappointed.
“Drink.” Instead of sipping his own drink, he watches me expectantly. I lift the glass, study its ruby contents, then lower it again. With wide eyes I move my stare from the glass to him.
“I usually stick to cola.” I have learned the hard way that too much alcohol unlocks the grief. I become another person entirely when I’ve been drinking, a stranger who is wild, emotional, and above all, angry. Since I like alcohol, it is just easier not to start.
I don’t like releasing that other me, maybe because I know that, given half a chance, she will take over the rest of me, and the person I was a year ago will be lost forever.
“This is much better.” He is watching my lips again, expecting me to lift the glass, to sip.
I know better than to accept drinks from strangers in bars, but I have watched this one’s journey from the bartender’s hands. Alex seems to want so badly for me to taste it.
“You’ll like it.” The promise sounds sultry, and I warn myself to settle
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Read more of Devon and Zachariah’s tumultuous passion in
Part III of SURRENDER TO TEMPTATION
TEMPTED TO OBEY
Available from InterMix on January 15, 2013
And keep reading for a special preview of
Lauren Jameson’s upcoming erotic romance novel,
BLUSH
Available from NAL in May 2013
Many people would look uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny that I have been directing his way. This man doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blush, doesn’t toss me a cocky smile. Instead he returns my stare, unabashed, stoic even, letting me look my fill. He doesn’t touch me, either, but after he sets the glass down, I feel as if his hands had been all over me.
“Let me get you something else wet.” I think he smirks now, just the smallest upturn of his lips, but the expression is gone before I can be certain. Certainly he hasn’t meant the double entendre that has leapt into my head.
He waves the bartender over and speaks; I am not listening and don’t hear what he orders. I am busy focusing intently on not making a fool of myself—that, and wondering why on earth such a desirable man is here, talking to me.
“There.” The man eases himself up onto the stool beside me and turns to face me. Our knees bump together, and I get the impression that he has done it on purpose.
“Now. Why are you so nervous, so uptight, that my ‘hello’ makes you spill your drink?” He steeples his fingers, rests his chin on them, and looks right into my eyes. I feel like a bug pinned on the wall.
“I . . . I . . .” I can’t tell him why. It’s stupid. No, it’s not stupid, but it would
seem
stupid to someone who doesn’t know me, who doesn’t know what I’ve been through or why I’ve done the things that I’ve done.
The man frowns when I don’t reply, and I feel, again, a bit like a child being scolded. Then he smiles again, a seductive smile right at me, and the sun seems to shine through a batch of rain clouds.
“Let’s start with something easier, then.”
The bartender arrives at that moment, setting down a fat wine bottled with an elongated neck and two stemmed glasses. The man pays it not a whit of attention, keeping his eyes intently latched on my own.
I am growing very warm.
“My name is Alex Fraser. What is yours?” He seems keenly interested in the answer.
“Um.” Why on earth does he care? Why do I care why he cares? “Maddy. Maddy Stone.”
He nods as if he has never heard anything so interesting. “And is ‘Maddy’ short for anything?”
“Madeline.” My voice is soft, but I can’t seem to speak any louder.
“Well, then.” Enormously pleased, the man I now know as Alex Fraser turns and pours two small glasses of the liquid from the bottle, which is already uncorked. He hands me one, and though I can feel the heat of his hand as I wrap my own around the glass stem, he doesn’t touch me.
I find myself oddly disappointed.
“Drink.” Instead of sipping his own drink, he watches me expectantly. I lift the glass, study its ruby contents, then lower it again. With wide eyes I move my stare from the glass to him.
“I usually stick to cola.” I have learned the hard way that too much alcohol unlocks the grief. I become another person entirely when I’ve been drinking, a stranger who is wild, emotional, and above all, angry. Since I like alcohol, it is just easier not to start.
I don’t like releasing that other me, maybe because I know that, given half a chance, she will take over the rest of me, and the person I was a year ago will be lost forever.
“This is much better.” He is watching my lips again, expecting me to lift the glass, to sip.
I know better than to accept drinks from strangers in bars, but I have watched this one’s journey from the bartender’s hands. Alex seems to want so badly for me to taste it.
“You’ll like it.” The promise sounds sultry, and I warn myself to settle
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