Lipstick and Camouflage! Confession!

In anticipation of Lipstick and Camouflage's upcoming release, it's really almost here, I thought I'd share a little backstory on the creation of this story.

I'm not sure if you've heard of Belle Femme authors ( a group of very talented authors) awesome reader-author gathering in San Antonio, Texas known as Wild Wicked Weekend. If you haven't, consider going next year. It is coming up again in February but I'm told it's pretty much sold out. It's held at the historic and haunted, yes, haunted Menger Hotel, which is so close to The Alamo, you can literally look out a window and see the infamous site. If you were to travel back in time, and who wouldn't want to, it's likely that the hotel sits right on the actual grounds. When you walk around San Antonio, you're probably walking where William Travis and Jim Bowie (who was gravely ill at the time of the siege) had given their lives for a cause they believed just.

It's no wonder the hotel and the grounds are said to be haunted. Last year, I saw Sally White, I've no doubt about this, but someone else's version may vary. During WWW last February, one of the authors attending found a hidden compartment in her room. That, for some reason, inspired the story that became Lipstick and Camouflage. And, though it's set in Baltimore (born and raised Marylander, here), and some elements are set in Salem, Massachusetts, I'd wondered what would happen if an innocent hotel guest were to inadvertently take something home with them and end up in an assassin's path without realizing it.

I happen to love history and The Alamo, especially William Travis' story, also resonated with me and I decided to create a hero named after him, thus I went with Travis. I won't give away the ending of Lipstick and Camouflage, but let me say, you might see elements of The Alamo and The Menger Hotel pop up!

That said, I recently shared an excerpt from Lipstick and Camouflage, and wanted to add a little more romantic one. Here it is! Enjoy!

Lipstick and Camouflage

Brandt’s Dozen: Book One

Security specialist Travis Blake’s undercover assignment should be easy. The former Navy SEAL has to protect Cassidy O'Neal from an elusive assassin. Yet, nothing about this case is simple.

For Cassidy, it’s easier to believe in ghosts than to think she’s in danger. .Despite a series of unusual happenings around her apartment that make her feel uneasy, she has no idea her hot new neighbor is far more than he seems.

What starts off as simple flirtation quickly turns passionate. But, as danger intensifies, more than just their hearts are on the line. Travis must do whatever it takes to protect Cassidy, including revealing who he really is. 

“I, umm, think this is where I should go back to my dorm,” Justin suddenly decided, pushing his paper plate aside. “I’m sorry, Cass, didn’t know I was interrupting a date.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” she reassured.

“Yep, you can say that. You’re not getting the stink eye from your neighbor. Who, by the way, can kick my ass from here to UMBC and back again. I’ll make myself scarce.”

“At least take another slice of pizza,” Cassidy offered.

“I’ve had enough, thanks.” Justin stood up, went to the family room and grabbed his hoodie.

“What do I owe you for the food?” Travis got up, walking over to Justin, his hand in his back pocket. The two talked quietly and Travis pulled out his wallet, handing Justin money.

Shortly, Justin turned back, thanked her for dinner, and whispered, “I’m sorry,” as he left.

“He could’ve stayed,” Cassidy said after Travis closed and locked the door. “I’ll call him tomorrow and make sure he got back to the dorm okay.”

“Sorry about that, Travis. I honestly wasn’t expecting him,” she said softly, her cheeks heating up.

“No need to apologize,” Travis replied. “What’s the matter?”

Cassidy pushed back from the table and stood, suddenly feeling as if she was being interrogated. Then again, he’d been part of Special Forces. He was trained to look dangerous when he needed to be.

“It’s a little embarrassing,” she confessed. “The other night, he asked me out.”

“Why’s that embarrassing?” Travis questioned.

“Because he’s my brother’s best friend,” Cassidy said. “Have to admit, I’m glad he came over, if only to make things right, I just didn’t want you to think I was a cougar or something.”

“I wasn’t worried about that. I’m wondering why you can’t see that Justin likely asked you out because you’re an attractive woman, more so, why you’re embarrassed.”

“Honestly, it’s been so long since I’ve gone on an actual date that I was tempted to accept just so I didn’t have to rely on a book boyfriend for a night. Why? Are you thinking about asking me out?”

Cassidy stopped cleaning up the table and looked across the room. Travis remained by the door, but his intensity increased, seeming to be zeroed in on her, even her slight movements drawing his eye.

“I’d like to, but I can’t, not yet,” he answered.

“Why, is there something wrong with me?”

“No, this is all on me. After getting shot, I needed to reevaluate things, make changes. If my dojo doesn’t succeed, I’ll either go back to Texas or my old job in Virginia.”

Drawn to look back at him, Cassidy shifted around, watching him jerk his shirt down his left shoulder, revealing a still angry-looking scar about the size of a quarter. Jesus, if that bullet had gone a little more to the right, if he’d not worn a protective vest, he could’ve been shot through the heart.

Feeling as if a balloon had just popped in her chest, Cassidy found herself rubbing her sternum to ward off the pain. It made absolutely no sense that she was suddenly afraid for him. After all, she and Travis met a few hours ago. The trauma with Mr. Milner and the elevator must’ve created a false sense of attachment to him.

“You’re right, it’s best we stay friends,” she said, breaking eye contact with him to continue stacking paper plates and tossing crumpled napkins on top.

Funny, she did such a good job of ignoring him, she hadn’t heard him move. It wasn’t until his big hand gently circled her wrist, turning her so she’d face him.

“SEAL training kicking in, Hero?” she dared, though she wasn’t quite able to look at him.

“That’s something I’d never forget,” he whispered, his mouth almost touching her ear. His other hand went to her waist, slipping around to the small of her back, making her feel tiny, protected, soft, and girly.

“What do you want?” she suddenly demanded, his mixed signals confusing her.

“I think you know the answer,” he murmured, his lips brushing her earlobe. “You felt what happened when you were on top of me earlier, didn’t you?”

“Yes, you got an erection. It’s a natural physical reaction. I was turned on, too, same reason. Nothing more, nothing less, I get it.”

“Do you? Because it’s more than physical, that’s the God’s honest truth.”

Cassidy shook her head, still confused by how easy it was to be this close to him, to feel his incredible heat, his strength, to smell his clean male scent, everything. Even now, she could feel the throb of his hardness brushing close, so damn close, to her apex between her thighs. It was temptation incarnate, something she didn’t want to ignore.

“Is it the ghost hunting that’s turning you off? If that’s your hang up, get over yourself.”

“Does it feel like I’m turned off right now?” he countered, shifting until his thigh slipped between her legs. “Honestly, I’ve no idea if there are ghosts or what goes into finding them, maybe you can teach me. As it is, I’m hard as a spike.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you came to me just now, not the other way around,” she said.

“Don’t you understand? You’re the kind of woman a man keeps for himself,” he said, easing off slightly only to catch her chin in his big hand and bring her face upward. “Me? I could be here for a while or gone tomorrow, there’s no way to know yet. You deserve more than that, more than sex.”

“Maybe sex is all I want, ever think of that? You seem like the kind of guy who can give a woman a good time in bed, without unrealistic expectations afterwards.”

Trying to toss her head, to dislodge him, anything, Cassidy only managed to shift his hand until he stroked her face, gently, sweetly. This wasn’t the touch of a man out to seduce or conquer. It was the caress of a lover, of someone who cared.

“Darlin’, you’re sweet-natured and maybe too trusting for your own good, but I’d never suspect you were a liar.”

“Fine, you’re right,” she said. “But I’m not begging you to stay either, nor will I, ever.”

“Fair enough,” he replied. “Tell me to go, slap me if you need to.”

“I don’t want to slap you.” What did she want? She wanted him, same as he claimed to want her. It was crazy, but there it was.

“Ah, to hell with why I shouldn’t do this,” he said, his head bending toward her a second before she closed her eyes and his lips touched hers, briefly, as if he thought she might shove him away.

Instead, her arms went up, wrapping around his big, broad shoulders, her fingers lacing behind his neck. Next thing she knew, he swept her up close, his mouth increasing pressure against hers, his tongue slipping between her lips, entering, dueling with hers.

Cassidy had never, ever experienced a sexier kiss. The brush of his trimmed beard tickled, enhancing their differences. He was hard, strong, sexy, tasted incredibly masterful yet she wasn’t afraid or intimidated. She felt desired, soft, and feminine.

All she really knew in that moment was that this was Travis Blake, the man who’d come to her aid twice in one day, like a guardian angel. With him, she felt safe, even though his kiss rocked her world, tilting it right on its axis.

Lipstick and Camouflage, Coming Soon!

Greetings one and all! First, let me thank everyone, and I mean everyone, for the support and comments on my last blog post. And, I wanted to wish everyone a Happy 2016! Wow, what a year 2015 was, and though this world has lost some of the greatest talents, artists, and musicians this month, they will not be forgotten, ever! IMO, David Bowie, Glenn Frey, Natalie Cole, Lemmy, and, of course, so many others from jazz greats to drummers, must have formed a helluva band already.

Not to mention, Alan Rickman, who will always be Colonel Brandon to me, though should also be commended for his presence on the big screen and on stage.

But, I digress, I'm here today to share some awesome information. My latest Romantic Suspense, the first of a multi-book series titled Brandt's Dozen, is coming soon. I'm currently doing a final read-through and then it'll be ready to go. You'll be able to find Lipstick and Camouflage at most digital vendors, Amazon, B&N for Nook, Kobo, iBooks, etc, and if all the stars align, in print at a later date.

How about an introduction to Travis and Cassidy's story?

Lipstick and Camouflage
Brandt’s Dozen: Book One

Security specialist Travis Blake’s undercover assignment should be easy. The former Navy SEAL has to protect Cassidy O'Neal from an elusive assassin. Yet, nothing about this case is simple.

For Cassidy, it’s easier to believe in ghosts than to think she’s in danger. Despite a series of unusual happenings around her apartment, she never suspects why she’s felt so uneasy, or that her hot new neighbor is far more than he seems.

What starts off as simple flirtation quickly turns passionate. But, as the danger intensifies, more than just their hearts are on the line. Travis must do whatever it takes to protect Cassidy, including revealing who he really is.  

Now that you've gotten a look at the blurb, here's a fun excerpt!

Federal Hill—Fletcher Street Apartments

The whir and tumble of an old dryer accompanied Cassidy’s reading choice of the afternoon, The Count of Monte Cristo. Having been an avid reader as long as she could remember, she enjoyed the chance to get lost reading about a French sailor’s false imprisonment only to emerge as and reinvent himself as a nobleman to exact revenge on those who’d wronged him.

Hmm, at least Edmond, the hero, had a love life, albeit a complicated one. Today, in this cramped old laundry room that served the apartments upstairs, Cass had nothing but a book, a mound of laundry, and her headphones to keep her company.

She wished she could remember the last time she’d had a real date, much less an orgasm with someone other than herself and her imaginary book boyfriend of the night. Yeah, sad, but even though her brother’s roommate had asked her out on a date, she didn’t have it in her to be a cougar.

Maybe Justin was the reason she was so jumpy lately. He’d not exactly left that night with a smile and she’d wondered if he’d come back and try again.

Or, maybe it was something else, something unexplained. Ever since she’d gone to Salem and took Mike Smith’s place as the lead cameraman in a ghost hunt, something had been off kilter about her apartment and the building itself. Granted, they’d caught some amazing EVPs that night, but the experienced investigators in her group, Jerome and Sam, concluded what they’d caught on audio was residual and non-threatening.

If it wasn’t Justin Myers or a ghost, maybe it was that surveyor who’d staked out the neighborhood. He’d claimed to be doing a favor for a friend looking to move into the area and open a new business. She hadn’t believed him. That man had an aura about him that was mysterious and dark, maybe dangerous. She’d run him off, and as far as she knew, he’d not returned.

Frustrated, she snapped her book closed and set it aside, going over to check the last load of laundry for the day. Being Friday, she’d worked a half day and had plans to do laundry, eat rocky road ice cream for dinner, and continue reading Edmond’s tale of revenge, justice, and romance until he skewed his best friend with a sword.

Okay, she’d read the book a couple of times. Next week, she’d open up The Three Musketeers and have four book boyfriends, though her personal favorite was Aramis.

Yeah, like anything that exciting would happen to her, but one could dream a tale of fiction even if her day job wasn’t exactly the same as a French sailor’s false imprisonment or Musketeers saving a king from a treacherous cardinal.

Taking a moment to switch up her music, she chose her classic rock playlist and increased the volume, singing, well, mostly humming until her favorite line, “We were making it,” came out loud and clear.

As if it mattered how badly she was singing while pulling bras and panties out of the dryer and tossing them into the hip-hugging basket on the floor beneath the machine.

Slamming the dryer door home and picking up her basket, she turned to go back to where she’d been sitting when movement caught her eye. Whipping around, she saw a tall, impressively built man standing in the doorway, as if he’d stepped right out of the pages of one of her novel.

A heartbeat later, he came toward her, proving he was no figment of her active imagination and seeming to get bigger with every step. Unsure what to do, Cassidy threw her basket at him and rushed for the door, getting less than two feet before her bare foot caught his boot and she went tumbling.

Certain she’d break something when she hit the stone floor, she tried to brace herself for the impact…only she never hit. The man caught her, shifting her momentum so that she landed right on top of him.

Breath caught, her headphones clattering to the floor, she would’ve scrambled to her feet if it wasn’t for the fact that she could not move. Good God Almighty, he looked a lot like Joe M. No, of course it wasn’t possible that an actor who made women everywhere drool over werewolves and male strippers could be in a laundry room with her.

If that was the case, maybe she had knocked herself out and was dreaming about her current book boyfriend, Edmond. His hands were incredibly big. She knew because they were braced right on her ass. His chest was broad, muscles beneath his black tee shirt strong as steel.

The beard that so reminded her of Joe’s, trimmed, defining a face that was incredibly good looking and sexy, tempted her to trail a finger along his jaw to see if it was scratchy or soft. His piercing amber eyes fitting to a lion’s captivated her. He was looking right up at her, unapologetic, his grip strong, maybe there was even concern in his eyes.

The only problem she could see at the moment was the bra on his head that skewed her ability to make out the length of his shaggy sable-brown hair.

Wait! That leopard-print bra was hers!

“Darlin’, it doesn’t matter who Joe and Edmond are right now, if you keep grinding your hips like that, I’m gonna make sure you forget anyone else’s name but mine, Travis.”

His hands on her ass tightened, bringing her into better alignment with his hips. No, not his hips! Jeez, he was real, she was wide awake, and still on top of him, between his spread thighs. His hard as stone fly brushed her exactly where she needed it most. Her clit woke up, she was soaking wet, preparing…for what, sex with a stranger on the laundry room floor?

“Please tell me I didn’t talk out loud,” she grumbled, dropping her head to his chest and didn’t feel the least bit ready to move.

What the hell was wrong with her? Something about him warned her that he could be as dangerous as that surveyor, yet she was not afraid of him.

“All I know is that you called me Joe and compared me to Edmond, your book boyfriend, whatever that means,” he answered, the timber in his voice so deep, his drawl southern, everything in her that was a woman was screaming ‘how do you do’ and ‘where have you been all my life’?

“And, the longer you stay here, the less likely I am to ask your name. But, take your time. There are all kinds of advantages to having you on top.”

Snapping her head back up, she growled, “Stop talking like that!” Although she wouldn’t mind having him talk to her for hours, days, however long he wanted, so long as that deep drawl of his whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

“Sorry, couldn’t help teasing,” he countered. “I sure didn’t mean to scare you. What do you say? Think we can get back on equal footing?”

Realizing that this was actually happening, common sense returned and Cassidy got to her knees, hindered in her efforts by his hands. “Let go of my ass, cowboy. As it is, I think your fingers left marks. I bruise easy.”

“Dammit, don’t say that. Now I’m gonna want to check that out,” he warned, showing absolutely no compunction to let go, not that she really wanted him to. As big as his hands were, he cupped, not injured.

In the end, he let go and she scrambled to her feet. Considering her knees were all wobbly and her legs felt as if they’d turned to jelly, it was nothing short of a miracle that she didn’t fall over him or stomp on his balls in her efforts. Would’ve served him right for being an unrepentant, cocky bastard, though he was a really, really hot cocky bastard.

And, that didn’t help anything, neither did her bra.

“Easy, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, getting back on his feet with nimbleness that no ordinary man should possess. It was catlike, or maybe a lion.

“Okay, who are you and where the hell did you come from?” she demanded, ignoring her embarrassment by punching her fists to her hips, hoping to look more formidable.

The guy was big, like Superman or Thor, big, tall, and muscular. He should be slow as molasses going uphill in winter. How tall was this guy anyway? She was a hair under 6’ and felt tiny compared to him.

“My name’s Travis Blake, moved into apartment 2 B a couple hours ago. Came down to do laundry and found you rocking out, wanted to alert you that I was there. Never meant to scare you, I’m sorry. I’ve ID on me, if you need to take a look,” he said, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket and flipping it open.

Taking a glance at his ID, she saw he had a Virginia license, but the photo was accurate. Finally, she nodded and stepped back, assessing him with the benefit of distance. Okay, it wasn’t that much of a distance since the laundry room was only big enough for three coin-operated washer and dryer units, a couple of plastic chairs, a mini-vending machine for detergent and fabric softener, a rack for hanging clothes, and the counter where her clean clothes were neatly arranged.

“Hey, you still with me, darlin’?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I’m Cassidy O’Neal, tenants here call me Cass, take your pick. We’re neighbors, Mr. Blake.” Vaguely, she recalled the building manager putting notices on everyone’s doors about a new tenant fitting Travis’ description moving in today.

“Mr. Blake’s my dad, nice guy. When he visits sometime, maybe you’ll like him.”

“I’m sure I would,” she replied, her eyes drawn to his head. “Can I, ah, have that back?”

“What?” he asked, as if he wasn’t aware that her bra was on his head. He acted as if he didn’t care, cool as cucumber.

“My bra, although I’m not sure why you’re wearing it,” she said, gesturing to his head.

“Got to admit, never had a woman throw her clothes at me, but, damn, you stopped me in my tracks,” he replied as if she’d earned his respect.

Stay tuned for more, excerpts, links for where to find Lipstick and Camouflage, and any related information.

Until next time,
Frances Stockton 

5 Nymph Review: Cuff Master

Woohoo! Hello everyone,
I'm celebrating some excellent news. Not only is it Friday, the weekend has arrived, football is coming up this weekend, and I'm a quarter finished my current WIP, featuring the youngest Maddox brother, Taran and his elusive switch, Detective Samantha Riley, Cuff Master received an excellent 5 Nymph review from Literary Nymphs Reviews!

Here's the link if you'd like to read what Amazon Nymph had to say: http://literarynymphsreviewsonly.blogspot.com/2012/11/cuff-master.html?zx=5087bfe9e335236

For more information about Cuff Master, visit my website, http://www.francesstockton.com, my author page at Ellora's Cave, http://www.jasminejade.com/m-527-frances-stockton.aspx, Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble or any of the ebook vendors for Kobo or Sony readers! Links to all of the above are on the home page of my website!

So happy to know that Amazon Nymph enjoyed reading Cuff Master and I sure hope you'll give Detective Ethan Maddox and his shy submissive, Morgan Everhart, the chance to win you over, too. For an excerpt: scroll down:
http://www.jasminejade.com/productspecs/9781419941566.htm

“Is there any woman more beautiful than Morgan Everhart?” Ethan Maddox asked his older brother in a hushed voice.

Not that there was a need to whisper. Music playing overhead covered the conversation perfectly and the entire restaurant of Druid Creek Castle Bed and Breakfast had been turned into a ballroom for Phalen and Cassie’s wedding reception.

“Frankly, I think my wife is the most beautiful woman I know,” Phalen answered. “But Morgan’s a knockout. Why not get off your ass and ask her to dance, bro?”

Ethan would rather take Morgan somewhere private and appreciate the way she looked in her dark-green halter-style velvet gown that hugged her tall willowy form perfectly. The narrow side-slit running from her ankle to her upper thigh gave an occasional glimpse of svelte legs that could surely wrap around a man’s waist for hours.

Her bare shoulders and long slender neck made him want to nip and lick all that exposed creamy soft skin, especially the gentle V of her cleavage, which accented perky breasts that weren’t overly large, but perfectly proportioned for her tall slender frame.

At a guess, he’d say she was a B-cup. He was good with that, already imagining all the ways to suckle on her perky nipples.

Her dark-auburn hair tended to look brown when it was down and in her face. Tonight it was pulled into some kind of fancy up-do. Pretty ringlets cascaded down to showcase a face that could have graced any high-fashion magazine. A guy could get lost in hair that when left long fell to her ass.

Currently, his new sister-in-law and the maid of honor were drawing people onto the dance floor, including football players and Cassie’s family. As Ethan was Phalen’s best man, it seemed unfair that he had to stand back and watch Morgan make some kind of dance with me gesture to a guy with long black and red-streaked hair.

It didn’t help that Morgan, who was normally shy around strangers, was perfectly at ease with the other man or that he looked vaguely familiar.

“Still with me, Ethan?” Phalen asked, nudging him back to the present. “Go ask Morgan to dance.”

“She’ll just say no. She’s still pissed at me for what happened six fucking months ago.” He had noticed the occasional glance in his direction. Each time he looked back, she’d scowl and turn away.

“You’ll never know if you stand here doing nothing. As it is, she might dance with that black-haired dude. You want that?”

“Who is that guy? If I’m going to punch him in the nose for touching what’s mine, I might as well know.”

“Name’s Remington Sinclair, goes by Remy,” Phalen answered. “He’s a friend of Morgan’s from that ghost hunting reality TV show that’s taken New England by storm recently. They’re all here. Cassie invited them on Morgan’s behalf.”

“Sinclair’s a local celebrity,” Ethan complained.

“Yep, but if you hit him, he’ll hit back, and then there’s going to be a fight that I can’t avoid. Think my wife wants to deal with that on our wedding night?”

“No, I’ll avoid trouble, don’t worry. Except…if I dance with her, I won’t let go. Know what I mean?”

“If you want her, claim her. Just don’t hold too tightly or flip out when she does her psychic thing. You do, she’ll bolt.”

“She’s been doing that since I fucked up that night she passed out in Cassie’s diner. She’s blocked me from texting her and she doesn’t return my calls.”

“Cassie told me that Morgan can’t read you and it’s something she’s never known with another man. That scares her. Maybe there’s a reason for it.”

“What kind of reason? As if I’m her soul mate or something?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“That belongs in one of those vampire novels Morgan likes to read,” Ethan said.

Phalen clapped his big hand on Ethan’s shoulder. At six-five, he was the same height as his older brother. A lot of people thought he was shorter because Phalen was a tad more muscular and slightly broader at the shoulders.

“How do you know what she likes to read?” Phalen asked, squeezing his hand to bring Ethan back to the conversation.

“I don’t know. I just know it as strongly as I know she also reads books on history, antiques and archaeology. She does so to follow up on impressions she gets on objects.”

“Then maybe you do believe in her gift after all?”

“Sam Riley and I listened to a psychic once. It led to a botched case and eight dead girls, including the one we were supposed to save!”

“A lot of psychics are full of shit. Morgan’s the real deal. Go talk to her. She wants you to. She keeps looking over here.”

Phalen gave Ethan a none-too-gentle shove toward the dance floor. With that, he was across the floor, sent off Remy Sinclair with a glare and the music switched to something slow and subtle.

Approaching her seemed as natural as breathing. “May I have this next dance, Morgan?” he asked, offering his hand to her and hoping to God she accepted it. Every dominant male instinct he possessed screamed for him to grab her up off the dance floor and head for the nearest room upstairs

“Your obligation as the best man ended with the toast,” she said, her gorgeous chocolate-brown eyes luminous from the glow of twinkling white lights strewn about the room.

“My obligation as your man began when I kissed you awake months ago,” he countered the moment Morgan placed her hand in his.

Tightening his hold ever so slightly, he drew her to the middle of the dance floor and gently brought her closer. She flowed forward, her gracefulness evident regardless of the fashionable narrow heels she wore on her feet.

Even though she was five-ten and her shoes gave her two inches more height, he was taller, altogether bigger and he felt as powerful as a Celtic god with her slighter, subtle curves pressed up against his hard muscular body.

She was soft. He was hard. She was sweet. He was enthralled.

“For the record, I’m not an obligation, Ethan Maddox,” Morgan stated, even as she settled in closer.

Jesus, she smelled like jasmine, all spicy and exotic and tempting. Her lips, painted with just the right amount of rosy lipstick, were perfectly plump and bow-shaped. It was all he could do not to kiss her right then and there.

“Denial will only work for so long,” he said. “Feel how right it is for us to be this close? Tell me you don’t want to be in my arms and I’ll let you go.”

Morgan stared up at him. His more dominant personality wanted to challenge her to see exactly how long she’d stare back and who’d break first. It wasn’t going to be him.

He recognized a submissive when he saw one. When she wasn’t aware of it, he’d heard Cassie and Morgan confiding in each other as only best friends could. He spied the longing in her eyes whenever Phalen took Cassie to the basement of Ink Masters.

Ethan knew in his gut that Morgan was meant to be his submissive and that scared her just as much as her inability to read him. If she consented to enter a dungeon, it would be with him as her Master.

“I don’t want you to let me go,” Morgan finally admitted, breaking eye contact to look beyond his shoulder as a submissive flush stole over her high cheekbones. Her exotic chocolate eyes, flawless skin, kissable lips and hairstyle reminded him of a mystical elf straight out of a Tolkien novel.

Ask him later what song was playing, he’d have no idea. All he cared about was having Morgan nestled up nice and close. Her breath was as sweet as spearmint and the green crystal pendant she wore between the swell of her breasts tagged him in the sternum from time to time.

The pendant got warm from their combined body heat. The warmer he felt, the hotter his groin was, the heavier his erection became. If he wasn’t careful, Morgan would unman him without even breaking a sweat.

“Put your arms around me,” Ethan urged, realizing she’d been waiting for his permission to touch him back. She may not have been aware of it, but she’d just passed a test that made him want her even more.

Blushing prettily, Morgan lifted her hands and placed them on his shoulders. “Like this, Detective?”

“Yeah, that’s nice,” Ethan said.

“I’m better at fast dancing than slow dancing,” she admitted quietly.

“Thread your fingers behind my neck.” Her hands left his shoulders and cupped the back of his neck exactly as he’d asked. “That’s it, like that.”

His heart skipped a few beats when she smiled earnestly. She was so damn pretty, he was smitten. No other word seemed right, smitten was it.

“Surely you know how to dance with me, Morgan. You danced with a bunch of football players at Grace and Dallas McKay’s wedding and most of the guests here tonight. You move very well.”

“I didn’t slow dance with any of them,” she murmured shyly, casting her eyes right to the floor.

“What’s that? Look at me and say it so I can hear you properly.”

Obediently, she lifted her chin, her eyes connecting with his. Nervously, she nibbled on her lower lip and he swore she’d just kicked him in the nuts.

“I didn’t slow dance with any of those men. I’ve never slow danced,” Morgan admitted.

Hell, his hard-on was pressing against his zipper just to get closer to the warm nest of soft auburn curls covering her mound. How Ethan knew Morgan’s mound was unshaven, he couldn’t say.

What he knew was that no other man had had the privilege of dancing face-to-face, hip to hip, chest to breasts with her. He wanted to cheer and pound his fists against his chest just to show Remy that not even a celebrity had danced with Morgan.

“Really?” he whispered.

“I’m not very experienced with men like you, Ethan. Most guys think I’m weird. I get it. I know.”

“Whoever you dated before me should be hung, drawn and quartered for making you think that.”

She stiffened and frowned. Ethan wanted to kick his own ass. What had he said?

“Like I said, I’m weird,” she remarked, wrinkling her nose in a way that was undeniably cute.

“You’re beautiful. Kindly don’t put yourself down around me. It’ll piss me off. That’s one thing you really don’t want to do.”

“You’d never hurt me,” she challenged.

“Not in any way that would harm you, no. But if you keep flirting with Remy Sinclair, I’m going to make sure you don’t sit right for a week.”

Morgan shook her head as if she couldn’t believe he’d just promised her a spanking if she flirted with Remy again. And she could be sure he would honor that promise.

“Even though he’s tall, dark and hot, he’s a friend, Ethan, nothing more. He wants my expertise for his show.”

Jealousy lanced through Ethan’s heart and aimed right for his balls, gripping so tight he had to grit his teeth to keep from finding the nearest chair so he could teach Morgan a lesson she’d never forget.

For a virgin to the lifestyle, she instinctively knew how to test her Dom. “Honey, that man wants you in his bed. I don’t need to be psychic to know that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Detective. He knows my stance on that subject and hasn’t once stepped over the line. He’s a good guy. You should get to know him.”

“Why? So you can get my permission to date him? Not going to happen.”

“You’re being intentionally difficult. I’m done with this dance,” she decided, making an attempt to free herself.

Ethan tightened his arms about her trim waist and kept her nestled right up against him. “Stay with me. I haven’t said you could go anywhere. You want to run away because you’re scared of how you feel around me. Admit it.”

“Anyone tell you that you’re as arrogant as Phalen and as much of a pain in the ass as Taran?” She lifted her chin defiantly. Her shoulders were straight and spine set. If she radiated any more tension, Ethan feared she might snap.

“The three of us are alike in many ways, I’ll grant you that. But I’m my own man. Admit how you feel about me.”

“And feed your ego? Not.” She tossed her head, the intricate topknot of long auburn hair barely even budging. Morgan could be a saucy little thing when she wanted to be and always sexy as hell.

“It’s the magic of hairspray and a lot of carefully placed bobby pins,” she said after he’d stared at her hair for a minute to see how the style survived that display of attitude. “No magic or supernatural energy was spent on the outcome of this hairstyle.”

“It looks real pretty. I like it. But I prefer when you wear it long. Can’t wait to bury my hands and face in it.”

“Try that tonight and you’ll end up scratching your eyes out or cutting yourself. As it is, it’ll take some heavy-duty shampooing to get it back to normal.”

“Any chance I can help with that? I’ve excellent hands. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to suffer an injury if you attempt to unravel that topknot alone.”

Morgan did something she rarely did with him these days. She smiled. Along with the healthy flush warming her pretty face, her even white teeth were perfect and made him think of places on his body she was more than welcome to nibble at will.

“My goodness, Maddox charm didn’t skip a generation at all with you. Don’t worry, Detective, I’m twenty-eight, I can handle showering all on my own,” she answered, seeming unaware that even as she refused his help in the shower, she’d nodded yes.

“Say my name, Morgan.”

“I’ve said it before.”

“Do it anyway. I like the sound of it coming from your lips.” Unfortunately, his attempt to charm fell flat. Not because he wasn’t making progress, but because the couples on the dance floor started gyrating to LMFAO’s “Party Rock Anthem”.

“Slow song’s ended, Ethan. You can let go now.”

“Song may have ended, but I’m not letting go anytime soon. Come with me.”

Drawing back a few steps, he kept her hand in his and guided her away from the crowd and through a side door meant for the wedding party to use.

“Where are we going?” Morgan demanded, stalling when they were halfway to freedom.

“Outside to decorate Phalen’s SUV,” Ethan answered.

“Shouldn’t we get the rest of the wedding party?”

“They can dance the night away.” Ethan slowed down and their steps evened up.

Letting go of her in order to whip off his tux jacket and place it around her shoulders before they reached the exit, he didn’t expect her to halt in her tracks when he tried to open the door.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?”

Her face froze for a moment, as if she was getting lost in one of her trances, and he feared she was getting a migraine. He hated when she got sick. It was the part of her psychic world he dreaded because he didn’t want her to suffer even the slightest bit of pain.

“No, there’s so much activity in this castle and your jacket is a rental. Usually, I can compartmentalize everything, same as reading chapters in a book. Right now I feel those who’ve worn this coat before you. It even smells like…apples. Can you touch the sleeve of this jacket or me?”

Frowning, he took her hand and her smile returned. “Does this help?”

“Yes.” Morgan looked up at him. The gratitude in her eyes made him feel as if he’d become her champion. “Thank you. Let’s get the decorating stuff.”

Since she benefitted from his touch, he figured he might as well keep it up and tucked his arm around her waist as they walked out into the chilly early fall evening.

A full moon lit up the parking lot as he led Morgan to his Acura TL. Once there, he checked to make sure no one was around and brought her up against his much bigger frame.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful, Morgan?”

“Ah, no, not really, and you’re being silly.” Playfully tagging him on the shoulder, Morgan tried to shimmy out of reach, but he caught the lapels of his jacket and kept her from escaping.

Ethan wasn’t having it. Tonight he’d decided to lay claim to Morgan. Now was the time to act on it. “When I’m done kissing you, you’ll know I’m not silly at all.”

Touching his free hand to her chin, he kept her still, or she stayed still, he wasn’t sure. The next thing he knew, his head was lowering closer and she’d lifted up on her toes.

“Always wanted to know what it would be to be kissed by Ethan Maddox when I was awake,” she whispered a second before Ethan laid claim to the sweetest, fullest, sexiest mouth he’d ever had the pleasure of kissing.

She tasted like an angel, with hints of mint and innocence. Already half in love with her, the reality of having their mouths fused together threatened to make him fall completely.

Wanting to deepen the kiss, he swiped her lips with his tongue, demanding entrance. Shyly, she complied, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do. It was both eye-opening and challenging to break through that timid barrier with a swift dart of his tongue.

She made a sexy little mewl and that was all Ethan needed to crush her completely up against him. Turning her about, he leaned into her until her back was flush against his car. The move forced their mouths to separate.

Checking to be sure she wasn’t alarmed by what they were doing, he saw her enticing eyes and sexy smile and swooped down to kiss her again.

“Ethan,” she whispered, the fluttering of her soft lips against his as sexy as fuck.

“Morgan,” he said, countering her movements with some bottom-lip sucking action. The sexy little minx arched back as much as the car allowed, her legs separating as he fitted himself right up between her thighs.

“Feel that?”