Alle Kapitel von Skin to Skin: A Collection of Pleasure and Temptation: Kapitel 11 – Kapitel 20

Celia pov The last cardboard box sat in the middle of the living room like a lonely, tan island in a sea of clean tan carpet. I sank onto the floor, my back against the wall, and dragged a hand through my hair, pulling it loose from the messy bun that had barely made it through the day.Everything smelled like new paint and the flat, clean smell of a place that had just been scrubbed. It was mine, this space. All mine. And right now, it felt just as empty as I did.With a groan, I pushed myself up. The physical work was done. But settling in–turning it into a home–that was a different kind of tired.I gathered up the flattened boxes and packing tape, the last mess of my new start, and headed for the door. The recycling bins sat just outside the gate, lined up neatly along the curb of this almost too-perfect neighborhood.The evening air was warm, sweet with the smell of jasmine blooming somewhere close by. I was shoving th

Celia povThe sun was scorching the next afternoon, beating down on the concrete around the community pool. It shimmered over the pool, making the whole scene look like a mirage. There were a few people scattered around–mothers with young kids, an older couple reading under a large umbrella, but it was mostly quiet. The loudest sounds were the water lapping and a lawnmower somewhere in the distance.I was lying down on a lounge chair trying to read, but my mind kept wandering. Every rustle of a leaf, every distant splash, had me glancing up, my stomach doing a little flip. I was wearing a simple black bikini, nothing scandalous, nothing wild, but I’d taken extra care with it that morning because I wanted him to look.And then finally, he came. He walked out of the men's changing room, in a pair of dark red swim trunks that hung low on his hips. Broad shoulders, a chest that was all hard muscle and a dark swirl of tattoos, and a stomach that was flat and rigid. Goodness, the man was

Kimberly povI should have been home an hour ago. I should have been pouring a glass of cheap red wine and sinking into my couch. Instead, I was staring at the back of Julian Croft's head.He was leaning over my desk, pointing at a paragraph in the quarterly report. His jacket was stretched tight across his shoulders, outlining the hard muscle beneath. His tie was loosened–a rare sign that he was tired. "Here, Clarke," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my desk and up my arms. "This projection is extremely favorable."I didn't look up from my screen. "It's an educated projection, Croft. Based on emerging market trends. A concept you might not be familiar with, since your entire department seems to operate on 'what we did last year'."He straightened up, and I felt his presence behind me like a furnace."My department brings in sixty percent of this company's revenue, Clarke. Your 'emerging market trends' are a gamble. A very expensive one."I spun in my chair to fac

Kimberly povHe hissed, his hips jerking forward into my hand. "Fuck, Clarke.""That's the idea, Croft," I shot back, stroking him, my thumb spreading the wetness already beading at his tip.He shoved my skirt up around my waist, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my panties. He didn't pull them down. He ripped them. The thin lace gave way with a sharp sound, and I moaned, a deep, shameful sound of pure lust.He kicked my feet apart, and then his fingers were there, sliding through my wet folds, finding my clit with unerring, brutal accuracy.I cried out, my back bowing off the wall. His touch was nothing like I imagined. It wasn't gentle or tentative, It was knowing and possesive . He circled the hard nub, pinching it, rubbing it until my thighs were shaking."Is this what you wanted?" he murmured against my jaw, his fingers working me, pushing me closer to the edge. "To get fucked in an elevator by the dinosaur?"I couldn't answer. I could only pant and moan, my hips riding

Elara pov The night the King’s Commander came for me started like any other. The cloying scent of my mother’s stew simmered on the hearth, my father was repairing a fishing net by the weak light of an oil lamp, and I was trying to mend a tear in my own simple dress. The The knock on the door did not sound like a friendly one, It was heavy, sharp, and seemed to suck all the warm air out of our small cottage.My father froze, his hands hovering over the rough twine. My mother stopped her stirring, the wooden spoon dripping a pale broth onto the stone floor. We all knew who that was–no one usually got knocks like that unless it was the King’s men.My father straightened as much as he could and went to the door and opened it just a crack. "Yes?" he asked, his voice thin. “How may we help you?”The door was pushed open without ceremony, and in stepped a man dressed in black leather and polished steel. The King’s Commander. I’d seen him before, from a distance, during the harvest festival