Healer's Touch (21 page)

If she could just get her mind out of the gutter, she'd cut him a new smile. But ever since he saw through her boy's clothes, all she can think about is getting him naked too.

But just when she's found something to live for, the father of her lover's murderer surfaces. He wants Lianon to die screaming—and he's all too happy to take Gil down with her.

 

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Crossing Swords:

Crossing to the door, she pressed against the wood with her fingers, testing it for weakness, dry-rot or cracks. For all that this place was a dump, the door and frame seemed sturdy enough. She might be able to break it down, but not until she had her strength back, and that might be another two or three days. And with the key still turned in the lock, she couldn't pick it, even if she had the proper tools.

Her eyes went to the basket of firewood next to the hearth. Some of the quarters there were pretty big, with decent heft. She smiled. Pictured what Gil's handsome face would look like after an encounter with a piece of seasoned oak.

Feeling much better, she went to the hearthrug, dropped to all fours and did some push-ups. She made it to fifty this time before dizziness convinced her to stop. Three sets of sit-ups and then some lunges. She was sweating and nauseous, but it felt good to get moving again.

A draft caressing the heated skin of her bare legs made her turn, and she froze mid-lunge.

Gil stood in the doorway, a wide grin splitting his face, his eyes raking her up and down.

She glared back, mortified at the sensation of her nipples pebbling. Just the draft, she insisted. Her stomach was fluttering. She told herself it was embarrassment.

“I came up to see if you were feeling better,” he said, his voice a low purr that seemed to resonate in her flesh. “I'm guessing you are.”

“Fuck you,” she said coldly.

His grin widened, and his eyes fixed on her breasts, hardly concealed by the translucent silk clinging to her sweat-soaked body. “Is that a curse?” he asked, stepping inside and pulling the door shut. “Or an offer?”

God, she felt stripped naked under his gaze, and knowing what ridiculously little she wore wasn't helping. With difficulty, she resisted the impulse to dive for the bed and cover herself with the sheet. It would only amuse him. Turning to face him square, she pulled her shoulders back, standing straight and tall, ignoring how her nipples jutted. Only the heat that rose to her face betrayed her discomfiture.

“I thought I made that offer this morning,” she said icily. “Does this mean you've grown the balls to take me up on it?”

His grin disappeared, replaced by a clenched coldness. He walked forward slowly, eyes glittering with anger, until he stood right in front of her. Her chest had begun to heave—panic or dread or excitement, or all three. He was staring at her chest, couldn't help but see how swift her breath was coming. One hand lifted, found her breast. It filled his palm perfectly. Lianon bit the inside of her cheek as his thumb flicked across her nipple through the thin silk. Her body responded of its own volition, her nipple peaking, a heaviness settling in her nether parts, her breath catching.

His other hand came up to rest on the side of her neck, his thumb caressing the sensitive spot behind her ear. Oh, god, what was he doing to her? Her heart was hammering, her face hot, her lungs suddenly starving for air. How could she be attracted to this man? How could her traitorous body have chosen
now
to come back to life?

His eyes had softened. Not a good thing at all. His anger she could deal with—tenderness was another matter altogether. He leaned closer, his lips almost touching hers before they descended to her throat. At their first caress, her eyes drifted shut and her head fell back as a wave of languid warmth washed over her. He kissed her fluttering pulse-point, his tongue licking delicately, sending heat snaking down her torso to settle between her legs. He was still toying with her breast, gently pinching the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, twisting and tugging. God.
God.
She couldn't let him do this. She couldn't afford to feel this, to feel anything.

Her breath caught on a ragged sob, but she clamped down on it. Clamped down on herself. Forced words out of her mouth that she knew would get his attention.

“Don't forget your part of the bargain,” she said unevenly, even as she cringed inside.

His hand stilled, his mouth ceased its caresses. “What?” She couldn't believe how much coldness he could inject into that one word.

“I let you fuck me, then you send me to the goddess. Clean and painless.”

He stepped back, his gaze sweeping up and down her body, filled with contempt. “You're a piece of work, aren't you?” he snapped. “I'd call you a whore, but I wouldn't want to insult Viera.”

Her hand swung out before she realized it, connecting with his bearded cheek. A little surprised at herself for enjoying it so much, she raised her hand for another blow, but he snatched her wrist out of the air. “Let's get one thing straight,” he hissed, his grip on her wrist tight enough to bruise. “We don't have any
deal.
If I ever decide to lower myself to fucking you, I'll do it.”

She wet her lips, refusing to struggle in his grasp, knowing it would only make her look weak. Instead she forced her features to coldness. “Rape doesn't seem quite your style.”

His eyes darkened, his smile half derision half lust. His free hand slipped between her thighs, one finger inching inside the leg-opening of her lacy drawers. She held herself perfectly rigid, refusing to respond, but her sopping pussy betrayed her. He lifted his wet finger to his lips, his nostrils flaring at the scent, before tasting her cream. “Oh,” he said silkily, “it won't be rape, I assure you.”

She glared at him, unable to think of anything to say. The scent of her arousal hovered between them and said it all. He only laughed at her dismay, and swaggered to the door. “I'll see you tonight,” he promised with another laugh, before shutting her in.

She stared at the door and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. That fucking son of a fucking bitch! Her hands were clenched at her sides, refusing to move to the places she really wanted them. Her nipples still protruded, aching for contact. Her cunt was so heavy and wet, she thought she could come just by squeezing her legs together.

Damn it, what was happening to her? She'd gone nearly a year without sex—without even
wanting
it. Now every nerve in her body was screaming to be fucked.

And by a man she hated. A man who went out of his way to shame her, who thought less of her than a whore. A man who would rather fuck a snake.

The body wants what it wants.

Well, Lianon was more than her body. Crossing to the tin washbasin, she took the cloth and scrubbed the wetness from between her legs, and washed his touch from her breasts.

Gil's final words echoed in her mind.
I'll see you tonight.

Lianon's eyes drifted to the basket of wood, lingering on a hefty wedge of oak. Her lips curled in a vengeful smile. Let him come. When he did, he wouldn't know what hit him.

Friendship crosses boundaries and love becomes a triangle. Can Jana learn to trust—through submission?

 

Lisa's Gift

© 2007 Mackenzie McKade

 

When opportunity knocks, Jana Ryan knows it's time to face her demons and return to the city she ran fast and far away from. Her homecoming isn't exactly what she expects—she finds Lisa, her best friend, in a rather erotic position with the one man Jana has dreamt of since high school.

The redheaded beauty is everything Lisa promised Nicolas Marchetti. Jana is sexy and exquisite and he can't wait to sexually dominate both women. The triangle with the gorgeous redhead and beautiful blonde is every man's fantasy. Yet there's something about Jana that makes him want her and her alone. His attraction to her is unsettling—it goes beyond the physical.

Only by conquering the trials ahead of them, can Jana and Nicolas find their way into each other's arms. Forever.

 

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Lisa's Gift:

Jana glanced back at Nicolas. He was staring at her. “What?”

“Do you want me to tell you what I see in you?” From the hungry look on his face she would rather not.

“No.”

Again, he leaned back in the booth. That mischievous grin she remembered back when she used to watch him with his friends slipped across his face. “Scared?”

Hell
yes
she was scared. She had always wanted this man. The years hadn't changed anything. “Not interested.” She played indifferent, reaching for her wine and taking a sip. Then she released a heavy sigh to drive the point home.

A light danced across his features as his grin grew. “Liar.”

“Whatever.” She brushed him off with a tilt of her head. But if she thought that her impassive behavior was going to stop him, she should have thought again as she took another drink of her wine.

“You are scared—scared of the attraction between us.”

When his foot slid up her leg, Jana choked on the alcohol that chose that moment to go down the wrong way. Air. She needed air as her windpipe closed.

Within a heartbeat, Nicolas was by her side. “Gentle breaths.” He patted her back. “One and then another.”

I'm dying
. She wheezed in a breath that went nowhere. She inhaled again, making a rather unbecoming sound like a cross between a snore and an asthmatic attack. The whole time Nicolas was there, talking, touching her softly.

It took a moment, but finally Jana could breathe again. Her eyes were misty and nose running as she excused herself and hurried toward the bathroom.

What the fuck!
She leaned against the counter and stared at herself in the mirror. It was no mistake that Nicolas was coming on to her. And there was no mistake that Lisa didn't mind. How Jana wished she could deny that he made her body burn. She had fantasized about being with him since she was just a teenager. What would it be like to make love to Nicolas Marchetti?

She couldn't—could she?

Nah
… She shook her head. It would be weird. He was Lisa's boyfriend. But the fact was, she needed to feel the touch of a man. She wanted to find someone to love.

Nicolas just wasn't the man for her.

Jana grabbed a tissue, dabbed her eyes, then blew her nose with a loud snort.

She needed a plan to get through dinner and then go home alone.

Concerned, Nicolas watched the bathroom door, and was relieved once Jana exited. He stood as she approached. Her eyes were swollen, her adorable nose red. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Sitting at one end of the crescent-shaped booth, she refused to scoot over, forcing him to sit at the other side. “The wine just went down the wrong pipe.” Picking up her glass, she hesitated then set it back down.

He slid clear around on the semi-circular seat until he was within touching distance from her. Her mouth went dry. She glanced at him, feeling her palms start to sweat.

The salad had arrived in her absence, and he busied himself tossing it, mixing the dressing and cheese, before placing a generous helping on her plate.

When he attempted eye contact she glanced away. She had grown distant, not that she had previously been warm by a long shot. He was back at ground zero.

Serving himself a heap of salad, he picked up his fork. “Where were we? Ah… Yes. I was just about to tell you what I see in you.”

“I wish you wouldn't,” she said, looking down into her plate as she stabbed at a piece of lettuce.

“Strength,” he offered the single word.

Her head shot up. “
Strength?
” Their eyes met and he felt her surprise. Obviously she'd expected something superficial. Like how her eyes sparkled beneath the light like two crystals, or perhaps how silky her hair looked draped across her shoulders like a red curtain.

The salad was good, fresh and crisp, the dressing not too tart he noticed as he took a bite. He would have to remember to compliment Antonio later tonight.

Nicolas let her think about what he said before he continued. “Look at what you have achieved in such a short period of time.” He picked up the basket the waiter had set before them and offered her a breadstick, but she shook her head. “You've been alone since you were eighteen. Moved to a different state. Started a new life where you had no friends or family to rely on. You have a college degree and have a brilliant career ahead of you. How many people can say that?”

A warm sensation filled him when she smiled. “A lot of people have degrees.”

“True. But not all of them have put themselves through school,” he countered taking a sip of his wine.

She stabbed another piece of lettuce with her fork, but didn't put it in her mouth. Instead she shrugged. “I was given a scholarship.”

“You earned that scholarship. Even so you did this by yourself—alone.” He placed his hand over hers. “Jana, Lisa says you are a strong, beautiful person. I know she's right.”

A soft expression fell across her once-tight features as she extracted her hand. “Thank you.” She grinned, dropping her gaze once again to her salad plate.

“What?”

Continuing to smile, she met his eyes. “You're not exactly what I thought you were.”

He pulled his brows together. “What did you think I was?”

“Well, arrogant for one.”

Nicolas feigned surprise as he flinched at her words.

She giggled, the sound like bells swaying in the breeze. “Superficial and a whoremonger.”

He pressed his palms to his heart. “I'm hurt.”

“As if,” she said. Her eyes danced with laughter for the first time that night.

“Well perhaps whoremonger is accurate, because I sure want to taste your lips right now.” An ache began between his thighs, tightening and pressing against his black slacks. His sight was riveted on her full lips. How soft would they be against his? Would she whimper softly beneath his attack?