Jezebel (41 page)

Even though he had every
right to walk over and stake his claim, Shane remained at the bar.
He’d put his neck out there before and had it chopped off. She
would need to make the first move, come to him of her own volition.

A noble thought and one
almost tossed to the wind when her gaze wandered over to the bar.
Their eyes met. She showed no surprise, not even anger. Had she
finally forgiven him?

Shane’s
heart soared as his cock pressed against his trouser buttons.
Unfortunately, her next move knocked the wind out of his sails and
sent him plunging back to reality.

“
Want some company?”

Celeste pasted on her
sweetest, doe-eyed expression when the young man looked up. Her
smile widened when his jaw went slack and his mouth dropped open.

“
S–s–sure,”
he gushed.

Like
riding a bike, Celeste mused. She hadn’t played the part of
the seductress for some time, but it wasn’t so hard falling
back into her old ways. Instead of taking the chair next to him, she
parked her behind on his lap.

“
What are you doing?”
Celeste bit her lip to keep from cracking up. He looked as if he was
about to have a seizure.

“
I’m sharing my
company.”

“
I d–don’t
think sitting on my lap is a good idea.”

Celeste looped her arms
around his shoulders. She leaned into him and whispered, “Why
not.”

“
If my girl, Sadie,
sees you on my lap, she’s going to raise a ruckus.”

“
Then let her.”
Celeste wasn’t giving up her post, not when she had a
captivated audience. Ever since she’d walked into Sadie’s
Supper Club, Shane had tracked her movements like a bloodhound. “Now
that’s settled, how about you order me a drink.”

Somewhat hesitant, he raised
his arm. A passing waitress, a teenage girl wearing an apron and
carrying a tray, circled back around.

“
What
do you want, Dean.”

“
Go ahead an order
whatever you want.”

Celeste
smiled. Her pawn might have been clueless to what she was doing, at
least he was polite. “I’ll have a soda water, please.”

The girl looked her up and
down. Celeste returned the favor. She’d weathered worse.

“
That all?” the
girl drawled.

Celeste nodded. She wouldn’t
dare order anything else. She didn’t like spit in her food.

“
I’ll be back in
a jiff.”

Moments later, Celeste heard
a commotion. She swiveled around. At the far end of the room, their
waitress was struggling with another woman. Slightly older and
wider, the girl’s adversary flung her aside like a sack of
potatoes.

“
Y–y–you
better get up,” Dean pleaded.

“
Why?”

“
That’s my girl,
Sadie and she’s on the war path.”

Celeste refused to budge.
She was itching for a fight, welcomed it. Ever since Shane showed up
on her doorstep, she needed an outlet for the frustration and built
up anger.

“
You better get your
behind up.” Celeste should’ve heeded the woman’s
warning. It was everyday a woman rolled up her sleeves. Plus the
woman’s fists looked like twin hams.

“
And what if I don’t?”
Celeste crossed her arms.

“
I warned you.”
With lightning quick reflexes for a woman her size, Sadie licked her
thumb, tapped her nose and then swung.

The woman’s fist hit
Celeste so hard, her head twisted on her shoulders.

The
room tilted, swayed alarmingly to the right. Dean’s face swam
before her eyes. And then someone flipped the lights.

CHAPTER
THIRTY ONE

Celeste
sniffed. Somebody was cooking bacon.

What a marvelous way to be
awakened, Celeste thought, snuggling deeper under the heavy quilt.

Celeste froze. Her hotel
room was on the fourth floor of the Street Hotel. Plus, her bed
didn’t come with a quilt. The covering had been a thin
chenille spread that came standard with most public lodgings.

Curious, Celeste drew back
the covers.

“
You need to keep this
on.”

Celeste tensed when Shane
leaned over her. He picked up something behind her and plopped it on
her face. Wet, cold and mushy, she had the distinct feeling it was
chopped beef.

“
It’ll take the
swelling down.”

Despite the pressure against
her eye socket and the loss to her pride, Celeste couldn’t help
finding the humor in the situation. “I guess prize fighting
doesn’t run in the family.”

Shane’s green eyes
twinkled. “She got lucky. In any other circumstances, I know
you could’ve taken her.”

His
faith in her made her toes curl. Feeling unusually content, Celeste
decided to come clean. “I deserved it.”

Shane
sat down on the bed. He had on a pair of loose dungarees and a
simple white tank. His sun-streaked hair was all tousled, and his
eyes still puffy with sleep.

Exposed
to so much skin, Celeste curled her fingers into the bedcovers lest
she make a fool of herself. Seeing him like this and in close
quarters was enough to make her forget all the months she’d
cursed him to hell.

What was a girl to do? She
had no business thinking of him in this manner. Not when she wasn’t
going to forgive him for what he’d done. She wasn’t made
of stone either. She was flesh and blood and hers was pumping
through her veins like molten lava.

“
Why didn’t you
come after me?” There she said it. His waiting all these years
to reconcile hurt more than anything he’d done.

An intense look entered his
green eyes and Celeste just wanted to reach out and pull him into her
arms. “I wanted to, but I was rotting in jail. Navy picked me
up right after the fight for desertion”

“
But you wrote me.”

His mouth curled up on one
side, giving him a boyish air. “They have ink and paper in the
brig.”

“
You wrote me a lot.”

“
Every day, if I could
have.”

Blister it! Why did he have
to say things that further weakened her resolve?

“
Thank you for coming
after me.”

“
That’s
my duty as your husband. In sickness and in health

.”

Reminded of their marriage
vows, memories of their honeymoon flashed through her head. Him naked
wrapped in only a sheet and the sunshine streaming through the cabin
window. Celeste gripped the quilt to keep from snatching him to her.

Shan—”

His mouth silenced her. A
moment later, he pounced, pressing her into the mattress. His hard
body covered hers.

“
What…what are
you doing?” she panted, her defenses crumbling.

“
I’m doing what
you want to do.” He yanked up her slip and hauled it over her
head, baring her breasts. The slab of meat fell on her lap. He
flicked it away right before he dropped his head and pulled one of
her nipples into his mouth.

Celeste gasped for air, she
clutched at his shoulders. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost
his shirt. His skin felt so hot and firm.

“
I want you to love me
like you did before,” he whispered huskily.

Celeste arched her hips
upward, bumping against the hard length of his erection. This felt
so right, them together again. Familiar feelings and sensations
assailed her.

His hand drifted between her
thighs, his fingers playing with the dark curls.

“
You’re already
wet,” he said hoarsely. “Got to have a taste.”

He inched downward, licking
down her body. Hot, heavy and strong as steel, his penis fell on her
hip. Celeste bucked against him, wanting it inside her.

“
Wanna kiss you.”
His tongue traced the underside of breast. He flicked her belly
button, made slow wet circles on her tummy.

The moment her fingers
threaded through his hair, his mouth dipped between her legs.

“
Taste so good like
honey.” His mouth closed around her clitoris at the same time
he slid a finger inside her. Celeste gasped and her hips shot off
the bed.

His tongue and fingers
worked her. He pumped his fingers deep. He sucked at the tiny
button between her legs.

The combination of
sensations made her squirm and buck against him. She cried. She
sobbed. Her hands clutched at him, the muscles in his back clenching
beneath her fingertips.

It only took moments for him
to push her to the edge. There was no help for it. His fingers were
filling her and stretching her, giving her everything she needed. And
yet, not enough.

“
Please, Shane,”
she gasped, running her fingers through his hair, as he bent over her
to kiss her belly.

Shane rolled from the bed.

“
Where are you going?”

“
Something’s
missing.” He padded over to the bookcase, and then returned to
the bed. “Give me your hand.”

Without even thinking,
Celeste placed her hand in his. The heavy gold band when on as
easily as the first time. “My wedding ring,” she
whispered, looking down at the gold band.

Rejoining her on the bed,
Shane positioned himself. Slowly, he sunk into her, sliding to the
hilt at the same time he swooped down and crushed his mouth against
hers. Celeste groaned. She tasted herself on his lips, his tongue.

On and on, his tongue
tangled with hers. She was so wet he slid in and out with ease. The
tip of him drove deep, tapping her womb. He was big, and it had been
so long.

“
Shane,” she
panted over and over in sync with his powerful thrusts. He reared up,
sinking deeper than she ever thought possible. A shiver danced
through her. Electric pulses pounded through her veins.

“
Forgiven?”
he asked, still moving his intoxicating hips.

The sly bastard! How
convenient to broach this now when she was at her most vulnerable.
Celeste groaned. Her heart and body conspired against her common
sense and she no longer had any fight left in her.

Celeste wrapped her arms
around him in surrender. She wanted to hold Shane forever and never
let go.

“
Forgiven.”

“
You won’t be
sorry,” he whispered against her lips.

“
Promise?”

He lifted her hands above
her head and entwined their fingers. “I’ll spend every
day of my life devoting myself to it. You deserve that.”

Celeste sighed. His devotion
sounded good to her.

The End

ABOUT THE
AUTHOR

Koko Brown is a
quintessential erotic romance junkie who once read over 200 Zebra
Club novels the summer before her senior year in high school.

A
Florida native, Koko loves to travel, shop in thrift stores,
ride motorcycles, renovate houses, and volunteering.

For more about Koko Brown
and her other books visit www.kokobrown.net

PLAYER’S
ULTIMATUM

BY KOKO BROWN

CHAPTER ONE

Roma Internazionale
Football Match

Rome, Italy

“
Time to put up or
shut up.”

In an attempt to bolster her
flagging confidence, Yvonne Floyd recited Robbie’s words
verbatim. Of course, talking the talk and walking the walk
completely diverged into a mile-wide chasm when faced with Roma
Internazionale’s friends and family box.

Nicknamed the Hen House by
the press, the soccer club’s reserved seating garnered just as
much attention from the team’s fans as the rabid media camped
around it.

Supermodels rubbed shoulders
with socialites, actresses hobnobbed with reality stars. Their
combined chatter rose above the sound of crying children and pregame
announcements like a cacophony of over exaggerated impersonal
nonsense.

Yvonne’s shoulders
slumped.

The countless photo spreads
and editorials she’d poured through before today’s game
didn’t do any of them justice. Akin to exotic peacock feathers
the Hen House represented the full spectrum of a multi-hued
kaleidoscope, yet they shared one common denominator. All of them,
unlike her, were jaw-dropping gorgeous.

Passably cute, Yvonne knew
the limits of her own looks all too well. She might have been blessed
with a curvy Coke-bottle figure and thick shoulder-length hair, but
her cinnamon brown skin and average looks wouldn’t call any
boys to the yard. So very few tasted her milkshake. But she was fine
with that. She’d been raised under the motto that quality was
better than quantity and safer too.