“If you only read 1 book this year, make it The Marriage Agenda.” – Christine via Amazon
“…the ending was absolutely incredible. I don’t think I’ve seen a gesture like Knox’s in a book before and I absolutely, totally, fell in love with him in the end.” – ToryMichaels via Amazon
EXCERPT (Warning: Contains profanity and smexiness. Adults only, please!)
His touch left a trail of gooseflesh over her thighs, her shivers contrasting wildly with the heat nestled against the front of his slacks. A string of profanity grazed his lips where they crept against her skin. More.
He dragged her closer, but the dress bunched around her waist and created a surprisingly formidable barrier for something so damned soft. He tugged and shoved the fabric to no avail, then finally gave up and slipped a finger beneath her panties.
Though he didn’t enter her, the barometric pressure lowered with the force of her gasp. She caught her breath enough to utter a very unladylike oath, and he had every intention of following through on that particular demand.
He withdrew to his knees, gaining an edge of control with the distance. With a laziness that belied the charge of his heart through his chest, he explored her outermost contours with soft, intimate strokes. Little sounds of contentment spilled from her lips, a breathy staccato of demands for more. Clearly, he wasn’t the only victim of this crippling desire.
She was wet and unbelievably hot, and he was an ass. When this was over and the sun pasted a morning-after glare on what they’d done, she’d want to fall in love and charge head over heels for a happily-ever-after that wasn’t on the agenda. Not his anyway. But sex…dammit.
He bit back a groan that had nothing to do with the erection that had probably by now reshaped his zipper. He didn’t have any condoms.
“What’s wrong?” Her breathless words were punctuated by the trace of her nails down his abdomen. Her dress, at this point, was little more than a belt. She hadn’t worn a bra, but she hadn’t needed one. Her breasts—perfect handfuls, each of them—were fully bared and begging for his attention. Her soft, sleek hips gripped him, framing the silken vee of her drenched underwear. He stroked her there, watching desire churn in the oceanic depths of her eyes.
“No condoms,” he muttered, fully sheathed in some sort of Chloe trance. Whatever element she possessed belonged on the krypton block of the periodic table. She vexed him, and he’d have been smart to remember that before he’d gotten close enough for all of his blood to rush south and point her way—simple instructions for a senseless man.
For some reasons, his words incited a riot of blush over her face. She raised a white-tipped nail to her lips. “I…uh…in my bag. You…help yourself.”
Well, hell. Good for her, but she hadn’t planned on spending her evening in his arms. Which meant Chloe was prepared for, well, someone other than him. A man she didn’t know, per her own admission. The news stung but didn’t change the fact she lay there wet and trembling and offering Knox the latex key to her kingdom.