Fans of Jodi Ellen Malpas, K. Bromberg, and Joanna Wylde will be unable to resist this sexy, deeply intimate tale of a woman running from her past, and the darkly mysterious man who sets her free.
I didn’t think answering someone else’s cellphone would change my life. But the stranger with the low, deep voice on the other end of the line tempted me, awakened my body, set me on fire. He was looking for someone else. Instead he found me.
And I found a hot, secret world where I felt alive for the first time.
His name was Dylan, and, strangely, he made me feel safe. Desired. Compelled. Every dark thing he asked me to do, I did. Without question. I longed to meet him, but we were both keeping secrets. And mine were dangerous. If I took the first step, if I got closer to Dylan—emotionally, physically—then I wouldn’t be hiding anymore. I would be exposed, with nothing left to surrender but the truth. And my truth could hurt us both.
His silence went on for a long time, long enough that I pulled my fingers from my body. The breeze over my body was not cool – it was cold.
I crossed an arm over my chest as if he could see me.
“Dylan?”
“You’re not playing, are you? This isn’t some hot virgin kink game with you?”
“Sure it is,” I said, trying to sound coy or something, not like my lungs were being crushed by failure and embarrassment. “You don’t like it?”
“Don’t lie.” His voice was harder than it had been and I responded instinctively.
“Not…really. No.”
“You’ve really never done this?”
Virgin kink. My entire awful, sad and lonely sexual experience could be summed up as virgin kink?
I sat up, breathless and embarrassed again. My body’s humming, its ache and throb – the slick heat between my legs, on the top of my thighs – shameful more than pleasurable.
“Never mind,” I stammered. “Forget it. Forget everything.”
“Layla, stop. Don’t hang up.”
I didn’t hang up, but I didn’t say anything either.
“Are you there?” he asked.
After a long moment, I said “yes.”
“Did that feel good, that stuff you were doing?”
“Yes.” It came out as a sob. My body felt combustible. My emotions impossibly wild. Totally out of control. I wanted to hit and scream and cry.
“It’s gonna go somewhere, baby. I promise. All those feelings it’s going to get better and better. Let me… let me tell you what to do.”
“Are you…going to laugh at me?”
“Laugh? I’m the fucking luckiest man on the planet tonight. The only thing I’m going to do is help you come.”
Molly O'Keefe has always known she wanted to be a writer (except when she wanted to be a florist or a chef and the brief period of time when she considered being a cowgirl). And once she got her hands on some romances, she knew exactly what she wanted to write.
She published her first Harlequin romance at age 25 and hasn't looked back. She loves exploring every character's road towards happily ever after.
Originally from a small town outside of Chicago, she went to university in St. Louis where she met and fell in love with the editor of her school newspaper. They followed each other around the world for several years and finally got married and settled down in Toronto, Ontario. They welcomed their son into their family in 2006, and their daughter in 2008. When she's not at the park or cleaning up the toy room, Molly is working hard on her next novel, trying to exercise, stalking Tina Fey on the internet and dreaming of the day she can finish a cup of coffee without interruption.
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