Excerpt from Screwed Over – my (deep in revisions) 3rd Tinseltown Temptress novel

ZOeye

…we join the Tinseltown Temptress’ tale already in progress…

He [internationally famous film and tv star, ZO] came back breaking up an ice pack and handed it to me from as far away as possible. Our arms stretched out between us for delivery, a human suspension bridge of care.

“Thanks so much.” I placed it above my kneecap, on top of my lower thigh and leaned back against the couch’s back.

ZO scurried over to grab the pillows off the room’s window seat. He stacked them up high next to my foot on the floor. “May I?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I’m at your mercy, sir.”

He slid his hand under my lower ankle, careful to touch only the part with the top of my sock. No skin to skin contact. Raising my leg, he slid the pillow stack underneath to elevate then adjusted the ice more to the outside curve of the joint.

“That should do it.” He smiled another melty, gooey, mess of sweetness grin at me and I felt my downtown tug in response to his painfully adorable nearness. “How does it feel?”

“Cold.”

“Can’t help that.”

“No, it’s great. Thanks so much. You’re very sweet to take care of me like this.” I fluttered my eyelashes and everything. “Your girlfriend must feel so protected and safe.”

“Ha!” he barked out. “I don’t think that’s how she would describe it.” He was still squatting in front of me on the floor, leg muscles corded with tension. “Like me to do your calf?”

“Yes.”

His hands shot onto my bare skin and he began gently kneading my calf muscles. When his thumbs found my fibular head and applied the perfect amount of pressure there all the stiffness fell out of my shoulders and back like he’d hit a magic relaxer button.

“Holy God, man. Are you a physical therapist too?”

“I did play a masseur in a movie once, but no. This is just a hobby.”

“Rubbing sore strangers?”

Our eyes caught and held. The air between our bodies crackled with nervous tension.

“We’re hardly strangers,” he said, though I’d never even given him a (fake) name. While one hand continued to slowly kneed my calf, his other hand slid up my leg to rub slow, groping circles higher and higher on my thigh.

“That feels incredible.”

“So do you.”

My body surged forward of its own volition and my mouth crashed into his. He immediately slowed the kiss, releasing my calf and sliding that hand up to caress my jaw and face as we licked, smooched and tasted each other. His hand on my leg rose up to cup my ass and squeeze it forcing a moan out of me into his mouth. His groin jerked slightly and he pulled away, hands still trailing lightly over my inflamed skin.

“We shouldn’t do this,” his mouth said, still inches from mine.

“No, of course not,” I said, then leaned back in to suck his bottom lip into my mouth for another deep kiss.

“What if it got out? I’m engaged.”

“What incentive could I possibly have to broadcast my personal business?”

“None. You wouldn’t.”

“What would people think of me?” Smooch, smooch. “My family, what would they think? No, I want this kept between us, a guilty, dirty little secret, just as much as you.”

We stared into each other’s eyes, breathing heavy for a few seconds.

“Fuck it,” he said before leaning in for an even tighter lip lock, hands everywhere on my body at once.

…this is from her 12th article. Start from the beginning with Screw Up. Now on sale for only $1.99 to celebrate its new cover.

Advertisements