Love Letters Volume 4: Travel to Temptation Read online

  He lined them up and pushed in slowly, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. Her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted. She made soft, sexy little noises that definitely did not signify pain. He found himself wondering what kind of idiot could mess up with a woman this beautiful.

  She was expressive and devastatingly beautiful in pleasure. Zane found himself absorbed in their initial pace, slow and without urgency. They moved together for long moments, until her nails pricked into his biceps and her hips picked up against his. Still, he wrapped his hands around her hips and slowed her until she strained against his grip.

  “Zane, please.” The matching tension in her voice broke him. Urgency was suddenly his middle name.

  He rolled so that he was over her, and she writhed as he went faster. He pushed her knees wide, settled her heels at his hips and slipped a hand down her thigh. He circled his thumb over her clit and set a near-brutal pace that she matched. They might have started off this day at odds, but now, here, they matched up quite nicely.

  He hadn’t responded to a woman this fiercely in years. He hadn’t realized how much of that side of himself he’d suppressed, had forgotten how deliriously hot simple sexual compatibility could be.

  “Tara,” he growled, falling over her, flanking her with his elbows, pressing her hard into the mattress. She moaned his name again, the movement of her hips becoming erratic but purposeful. She was close. When she came, he felt the spasms around his cock. Amazing.

  It didn’t take him long to follow her, and as the contractions rolled through him, it wasn’t just the climax that awed him—it was the tender way that Tara cradled the back of his head and whispered to him after it was all over. He rested his forehead on hers.

  Embarrassingly, he couldn’t find any words in return. He fell to her side and scooped her in close, regaining his breath.

  “I suppose you can stay,” she quipped, her own breathing labored, “now that you’ve proven yourself useful.”

  His chest rose and fell heavily, and her hair wafted in his puffs of breath. He grinned but couldn’t find the air to laugh. “Oh, love—I am more—much more—useful than that.” Lethargy was setting in and he fought it, but their meal combined with their exertion plus the day’s travel—all of these things were winning out against his desire to stay awake.

  “Zane?” Her voice was drowsy, and he took a measure of comfort in that. At least he wouldn’t be the only one doing the stereotypical roll over and fall asleep.

  “Hmm?”

  “I’ll tell you about him, if you want.”

  Zane’s eyes opened, and he looked down at the crown of her head. He kissed her forehead, shaking his head. “Not now.”

  And then, after a quiet moment, he felt Tara nod against his chest. “I’m sorry I almost bludgeoned you.”

  “I’m sorry I assumed you were vapid.”

  “I could still be.” Even sleepier, the husk in her voice was causing a new stir in the pit of his stomach. They hadn’t talked about this beforehand, about strings attached and the real world and what could happen after the villa.

  “I doubt it. That was more on me than you. I’ll tell you about her. In the morning.”

  There was no response. Tara slept against his side. Despite his exhaustion, Zane stayed awake for another hour, watching her sleep.

  He supposed he should have thought of the morning after before he’d stripped her naked and driven her out of her mind. His past experience with women who were out of their minds was not good, and it was unfair of him to get so close to someone so fast after his breakup. In the morning there would be repercussions and awkward moments and the talk where they had to admit that nothing could work between them.

  They barely knew each other, but that wasn’t what bothered Zane the most. It was the thought of doing anything to bring any more sadness into those big, dark eyes. Eventually, his whirling brain was overtaken by his exhausted body. His own breathing slowed to match Tara’s and he fell into a fitful slumber.

  *

  Tara woke up with a heavy, muscled forearm across her stomach. She stretched, her body sore from having slept in one position all night. Managing to wriggle out from under Zane’s arm without waking him took some machinations, but after a few maneuvers, she was standing beside the bed.

  He looked so innocent when he was asleep, though the context now was much more familiar than the last time she’d caught him dozing. She grabbed a pair of yoga pants and a loose T-shirt, slipping them on before heading down to the kitchen.

  As she washed the dishes he’d left in the sink, she replayed yesterday’s events. She’d started the day an emotional mess, betrayed by a man she thought she knew, and ended the day completely satisfied with someone she definitely barely knew. To call the day a roller coaster would be putting it mildly.

  This was so unlike her. She felt a knot in her stomach when she thought about what Zane would think of her. He’d walked in here to find her dressed like a high-class hooker, drunk, and she’d hopped into bed with him after a few minutes of kindness and a plate of eggs.

  Thing was, Tara liked him. A fellow member of the “refugees from the romantic wars” club, sure, but it was more than that. And he was undeniably sexy—that voice. She couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was that was so enthralling about him. She paused, letting the water sluice over the plate in her hand. What was it?

  There’d been a moment at Ishmael’s when Zane had described his work and Tara had caught a glimpse of his passion. It wasn’t because he thought he was curing a world-wide pestilence. He’d been pretty modest about his job. But he burned with a love of his work for its own sake.

  His genuine passion, that looked better than all the ambitious arrogance she saw in most men. Better than the haughty way Warren had always carried himself—she’d been a fool to buy in to the attitude.

  Once the dishes were done, Tara opened the fridge to find the rest of the eggs, a half pound of salted butter and a small cardboard carton of half-and-half. Whisking a good bit of each together in a bowl, she placed a heavy cast iron griddle on one of the burners and let it heat up.

  She could at least make him breakfast. Maybe the good vibes from Ishmael’s would carry over and they could avoid any morning-after awkwardness. There was a moka pot in one of the cupboards and she filled it with water and grounds, placing the small coffeemaker on the back burner to start percolating.

  Sprinkling a generous amount of olive oil on the griddle, Tara poured the eggs over the sizzling surface. When they were half set, she added cracked black pepper, dried dill and a generous amount of soft goat’s cheese. Kit and Randy had stocked the fridge well.

  She had just flicked the burner off under the bubbling espresso and was folding the first omelet over when Zane cleared his throat behind her. Even though she hadn’t heard him, she didn’t jump, just turned to smile at him in what she hoped was a nonchalant way.

  “Morning,” he said, and she took a minute to say anything back, because he was dressed in nothing but his boxers riding low on his hips.

  “Good morning.” She braced for the awkward silence, for the what-do-I-say-now moment. It didn’t happen. Zane padded across the kitchen, opened the fridge and took out a container of orange juice.

  “Mimosas?” he asked, wagging the carton. Tara stuck her tongue out at him as he came to the counter beside her, searching the cabinets over their heads. He pulled out a drinking glass and filled it with juice. After a long drink, he held the half-full glass out to her.

  Not missing the intimacy of the gesture, she took the glass and downed the rest of the OJ. He took the glass back and refilled it, leaving it on the counter.

  “So, you do cook.” He watched her as she slid the first omelet off the griddle and onto a plate.

  She nodded. “I do. I’m actually very good at it. My grandmother buys me a subscription to a gourmet cooking magazine every Christmas, and it’s a little side hobby of mine to cook as many new recipes as I can.”

&nb
sp; He accepted the plate she passed to him and, with his other hand, started opening drawers. When he located the silverware, he took out two forks, setting hers aside and digging into his plate. A blissful look washed over his face.

  “Good?” She found herself smiling again—funny, that she should feel so giddy after what had happened before her flight.

  He swallowed and nodded. “Sorry, should have waited, very rude of me—my God, woman, this is delicious.”

  She leaned over and caught his lips in a soft, simple kiss. He pressed back, searching her face when she pulled away.

  “Breakfast and a kiss?” He quirked an eyebrow. “I must have redeemed myself since barging in on your sexy holiday.”

  Tara snapped the elastic on his boxers, turning to crack a few more eggs for her own omelet. “You are my sexy getaway, so eat up. I plan on keeping you very busy.”

  She was elated at how natural it was to have him lounging next to her, relief washing over her at their ease. Her own meal was whisked and cooking when her cell phone chirped. She had forgotten that it was even turned on—she’d thought that she’d left it powered off since her flight.

  She flicked through the alerts—one text message and one missed call.

  “Kit texted.” She leaned against the counter opposite Zane and read the message out loud.

  Randy says he lent the villa to his friend Zane for a bit of an escape. Bad breakup, long story. Hope u & Warren not 2 crowded. Didn’t know. Sorry!

  Tara swallowed, feeling her chest tighten up. She hadn’t even told her friend about Warren’s betrayal yet.

  “Is that his name, Warren?”

  “Yes.” Tara grimaced, then added bluntly, “He was married and he neglected to tell me.”

  Zane stopped eating and put his fork down. “What a bastard.”

  Tara could only nod. The missed call was from Warren. “He called.”

  “Voicemail?” Zane’s voice didn’t hold any jealousy, only curiosity.

  Tara shook her head. “He won’t leave anything on voicemail, he never does. I suppose that should have been a red flag—not easy to get busted if there’s no proof.”

  She crossed back to the stove, set her phone aside and flipped the heat off under her omelet. She filled and folded her eggs. Zane was watching her intently.

  She was just sliding her creation onto another plate when her cell phone rang. The screen flashed on and Warren’s name scrolled across it. Before Tara could hit ignore, Zane had scooped up the phone and accepted the call. Tara gasped, dropped her plate onto the counter and reached for the cell, but he danced back, something wicked glinting in his eyes.

  “Hello?” Zane stopped when Tara cornered him on the other side of the kitchen. She reached for the phone again and he batted her hands away. When she didn’t stop reaching, he hooked an arm around her waist and lifted her, turning them so that she was against the counter.

  “Oh, yes, this is Tara’s phone, you have the right number.”

  Tara opened her mouth. Zane clapped his free hand over it. As Warren stuttered on the other end, Zane leaned over and started biting on her ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth and scraping it with his teeth. Tara’s protests died a shivery, melty death.

  “She’s actually really busy right now, can I take a message?”

  Zane lowered his hand from her mouth and used it to pull her shirt up. She didn’t have a bra on. He leaned down and captured a nipple between his lips, doing the same things he’d done to her earlobe. It made her weak in the knees. She speared her hands through his hair as he muttered a few mmm-hmms and uh-huhs into the phone.

  Zane tugged at the waistband of her yoga pants. Tara froze. If Warren didn’t end the conversation soon, he was going to hear exactly what Tara was so busy with. She slipped a hand across the front of Zane’s shorts to find him hard. He canted his hips into her touch.

  “Oh, I see. Yes, she can set you up with an estimate for that TV spot when she gets back from Fornalutx. We’re on vacation right now.”

  Tara couldn’t suppress a giggle. Zane had gotten her pants and panties down around her ankles and was shimmying out of his boxers.

  “Yes, I’ll be sure she gets the message. What’s that? Who am I?” A sly, wicked smile spread across Zane’s face as he stepped back to watch Tara step out of her clothes and lift her T-shirt over her head.

  “I’m her husband.” Zane didn’t wait for a reply. He disconnected the call, slid Tara’s cell phone onto the countertop and captured her mouth aggressively as he lifted her onto the edge of the sink.

  When they parted, she was laughing, a deep-down, riotous sound that made her shoulders shake. “You’re terrible. You’re a terrible man.”

  “Well, he doesn’t deserve courtesy, as far as I’m concerned. And you didn’t deserve to be lied to by him.” He moved firmly into the vee of her legs. “Besides, I can do many, many things that are much more inappropriate.”

  Tara stopped him when he leaned back in for another kiss, and he pulled back to look at her. “What’s wrong? Was that over the line? I’m sor—”

  “No, no. I was just thinking…what happens when we leave Fornalutx?”

  *

  Zane sobered, and he lifted a hand to smooth her hair away from her face. “I don’t know. You should know that Kit’s text was true. I just broke up with someone.”

  “Me too,” she said dryly.

  His smile was uncertain. “Last night was amazing, but I don’t want to promise you anything that I can’t deliver.”

  “There’s a change from my usual.” She ran her hands up and down his arms, making her breasts bob slightly. The movement was wildly distracting.

  “The truth is, after this holiday, I go back to Aberdeen and you go back to…”

  “Scottsdale,” she supplied. “Arizona.”

  He dropped his hands to her hips. “So we take these two weeks, and we see where it goes.”

  “Yeah?” She tossed her hair back. “That seems dangerously adult to me.”

  His lips found her neck again. “Mmm, yes, and I will tell you all about Hurricane Michelle and you can tell me all the sordid details about Wandering Eye Warren and I will spend two weeks finding every spot on your body that makes us both forget.”

  “At the end of two weeks, I will not want to let you go.” Tara tipped her head back as his lips explored.

  “Then we’ll figure it out. But we’ll do it together, and we’ll do it honestly.”

  “Deal.” Tara moaned as Zane’s fingers slipped between them and found her wet and waiting. They kissed, lapsing into silence, heady and hot. He was just finding a stroke and pressure that made her eyelids flutter when her stomach growled loudly. They both stopped, and Zane stepped away to retrieve her plate, handing it over to her.

  Her expression was confused. She held the plate, but plumped out her lower lip in a pout. “I didn’t ask you to stop.” Still, she cut a forkful of omelet and popped it in her mouth, chewing.

  Zane stepped close again, the edge of her plate grazing his stomach. “I didn’t say I was stopping. You eat your breakfast. I’ll be right here…” He dropped to his knees in front of her and traced the insides of her knees, moving in to plant a kiss beside her left kneecap.

  She squirmed and he lifted her legs to rest the backs of her knees on his shoulders. He turned to the right and suckled at the inside of her right thigh.

  “I changed my mind,” she said as he moved inexorably inward. Her fork scraped the plate and her voice was breathy.

  “Hmm? About what?” He nipped at the soft spot where her thigh met her body, and she leaned back slightly, widening her knees. Her response ended on a delicious sigh that he didn’t think he could ever tire of hearing. He took credit for her distraction—his lips found the soft, hot center of her just as she spoke.

  “This is the best omelet I’ve ever eaten.”

  *

  More passion is just pages away…

  Check out the first three books in the L
ove Letters series, available now!

  Love Letters Volume 1: Obeying Desire

  Love Letters Volume 1 contains four hot novellas that will tempt you to submit to desire:

  A Is for Assignment by Ginny Glass

  B Is for Bondage by Christina Thacher

  C Is for Curious by Emily Cale

  D Is for Detained by Maggie Wells

  Love Letters Volume 2: Duty to Please

  Discover four sexy stories with a military twist in Love Letters Volume 2: Duty to Please.

  E Is for Entice by Emily Cale

  F Is for Fallout by Ginny Glass

  G Is for Gun-Shy by Christina Thacher

  H Is for Hotshot by Maggie Wells

  Love Letters Volume 3: Wicked Whispers

  Verbal foreplay goes a long way in these four steamy stories in Love Letters Volume 3: Wicked Whispers.

  I Is for Indecent by Christina Thacher

  J Is for Jaded by Maggie Wells

  K Is for Kick-Start by Ginny Glass

  L Is for Lessons by Emily Cale

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  About the Authors

  Ginny Glass grew up in the rural South thinking that she wanted to be a stage actress. She discovered a love of romance novels early on, and reading romance eventually became a love of writing it (admittedly spiced up a bit from her early collections of soft-focus category novels). Ginny is also the owner/operator of WordSugar Designs, a graphic design firm that specializes in author promotions and book cover design.

  Ginny currently lives in the desert Southwest with her husband and a very spoiled dog named Piper. Her drama is on the page now instead of the stage, but comes with the luxury of being able to always work in her pajamas.

  Find Ginny at www.ginnyglass.com or www.twitter.com/ginnyglass.

  Find WordSugar Designs at www.wordsugardesigns.com.