The Rain in Spain by Amy Jo Cousins Page A

could, and fill the time in between with stories shared from far away. And maybe someday they would find a way to make plans that were bigger than just the two of them.
    But now, right now, they were still together, in this moment.
    And she had more to show him.
    “We’re leaving Sevilla in the morning.” Magda straddled his waist and draped herself across his chest, playing with the ends of his hair. Javi closed his eyes and groaned. “I know. My rearrangement of your carefully planned schedule pains you.” She gently bit the tip of his nose and smiled at him, her lover, her husband. “I want to show you the Alhambra. You’re going to love the gardens.”
    In a blink, she was on her back, Javi above her, his hips pressing into hers with a suggestiveness that was more theoretical than practical, given what they’d just finished. “I’m going to love you .”
    “I know.”
    “You sure? There seemed to be some question about that.”
    Her heart stuttered as she smiled at him. “I’m sure.”
    “Good.” Javi buried his face in the curve of her neck, snuffling against her like a puppy. “Because I kinda want to cross that one off my list. Love Magdalena. ”
    She stretched her legs along his and tangled them together. The sky in the window was graying, a pale yellow staining the Sevilla horizon as light broke over the city. Dawn was breaking.
    She might not know everything about her husband yet, but she knew the important things. Where to touch him to make him shiver. What he needed from her. How he loved. That he knew her. Understood her.
    That was more than enough.

About the Author
    Amy Jo Cousins writes contemporary romance and erotica, both straight and LGBTQ, about smart people finding their own best kind of smexy. She lives in Chicago with her son, where she tweets too much, sometimes runs really far, and waits for the Cubs to win the World Series.

The best presents are the ones you unwrap early
    Callie, Unwrapped
    © 2014 Amy Jo Cousins
    Play It Again, Book 1
    G abe picked up on her tension from ten feet away.
    “Get over here, girl.”
    He leaned the cue against the rail and patted the bar stool where Kate had sat. Callie eyed him for a moment and then hopped up. He spun her around until her back was to him, tipped her head forward and down with fingers at the base of her skull, draped his large hands over her shoulders, and pushed a groan out of her when he flexed and dug in to her trapezius.
    “God, I missed this,” she said before she could think better of admitting it.
    “My magic hands.” He sounded smug. The hands in question pushed her further forward as they slid down her spine, thumbs pressing to each side of her vertebrae.
    She snorted.
    “No. Your willingness to trade back rubs for sex.”
    The knots in her neck muscles were melting like taffy and Callie was feeling much more I-don’t-give-a-shit about the noises she was making as Gabe stroked and smoothed his hands over her. The heat in her belly pooled thickly with the growing need to be touched. Her eyes were barely slits, staring blindly at the floor, her long hair curtaining her face, when the toes of a pair of dark brown leather boots stepped in close to the bar stool.
    “Hey now.” Kate’s voice was already familiar. A gentle hand fell on the back of her neck. “How’s our girl?”
    “Run your fingers through her hair. Think you’ll find out.”
    Callie hugged her knees and braced herself, knowing what was coming and cursing Gabe under her breath for never forgetting a goddamn thing that involved sex.
    Kate’s fingers combed through her long hair, separating strands and trailing through them until Callie could see the ends drop off Kate’s fingertips. She could feel the tug of each individual hair on her scalp and the tiny, sharp pains when Kate hit a snag or the tangle of crossed waves of hair. Every nerve from her scalp down the length of her spine to the top of her ass fired awake and she shivered, knowing they