Title: The Fight for Us & Inappropriate
Series: Bristol Island Tales
Author: Elizabeth Finn
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance
Hosted By: DRC Promotions
The Fight for Us
When Isaiah moves his teenage daughter Natalie to a new town, there is little doubt he’s running away from the past. But what should have been a fresh start for them ends up fraught with pain and heartache when Natalie becomes the victim of intense bullying at her new school. When Joss is called to a meeting with the high school principal to discuss her daughter Harper’s involvement in the bullying of a new student, she’s shocked to say the least. Her daughter can’t possibly be that child.
It’s a rocky start for Joss and Isaiah as they try to set their daughters on the right path. But there is more to Joss’s and Isaiah’s connection than just two teenage girls. Joss’s and Isaiah’s attraction to one another is undeniable, regardless of their fractious start. But his soul is broken, and as much as he’s drawn to her, he’s equally terrified of what that means.
Is Isaiah strong enough to let her get close to him?
Life sometimes forces you to make those choices whether you’re ready to or not. And when Joss’s life is turned upside down, Isaiah has to decide if he’s ready to leave his past behind and live again, or if he’s going to watch what he’s come to care so much for slip away. Isaiah’s fight is profound. Joss’s is too. And their strength to withstand it all is brutally tested.
Sometimes the willingness to fight for another is all a person has left to give. And sometimes the fight is the most important gift of all.
Excerpt
Isaiah was watching Joss as she pulled up in the
driveway of house one—or house eight really since she’d flipped their original
list on its head. Her heart was racing as she pulled into the driveway, and his
focus followed her from his place in his car at the curb. When she stepped from
her car, he did the same. She couldn’t tell at all what kind of mood he was in.
She’d shot off a text message less than an hour before asking him to meet her
there rather than driving together from the office. Errands, she’d said. She
was full of shit. She didn’t have a single errand to run. She was simply
terrified and having a panic attack. It was odd that he had such an effect on
her given they’d never done anything even noteworthy to suggest such a
connection. He’d not asked her out, not kissed her, nothing at all that could
explain why exactly she felt like shit since he’d been honest with her nearly a
month before.
He’d been a rush to her system since the day they’d
squared off with one another in the principal’s office, and now, life was back
to the same old hum-drum boring bullshit—aside from the fleeting moments when
she got to see him. But then she was such a spaz she couldn’t seem to act
normal to save her life.
“Hi.” It was the same polite and safe greeting she’d
been giving him for a while now, and she hated the sound of her voice when she
said it.
“Thought you had errands to run.” He studied her,
refusing to look away.
“I did.” She forced herself to stare right back at him.
“Why do people always think they can sell a lie by
holding eye contact?” He said nothing else for a moment. “I only just pulled
up, and I drove by your office on the way. I’m well aware you were there.” He
watched her, but he didn’t give her a chance to respond before he turned and
headed toward the door. “Shall we?”
She let him in the house, but once they made it to the
kitchen, she stopped. “I’m sorry I lied.” She owed him that much at least, and
since he was a walking lie detector, there was no sense denying it.
“Relax. I expected you would.” He winked at her before
he walked away to the living room.
She followed him, wandering around the room. She’d been
so terrified about this meeting that she’d made a trip to a small boutique the
afternoon prior just to buy a new shirt. Sadly, it likely wasn’t worth the
money she’d thrown down, but after spending an hour on her closet floor nearly
comatose from the exhaustion of trying on twelve lackluster ensembles she
already owned, she decided it was worth whatever the price might be. The skirt
was the same as she’d worn on their previous house-hunting-mission-gone-bad,
and as she shrugged out of her black pea coat and left it on the kitchen
island, his gaze trailed slowly over her, studying her new billowy satin shirt.
The material was cold against her skin. It was every
shade of gray, black, and white imaginable, swirled into a rather antique
looking paisley pattern, but it was doing little to keep her warm in the rather
cool house. She’d paired the outfit with her black boots that came nearly to
her knees. They had a heel, and every step she took clicked and echoed off the
cavernous empty walls and floor. It was only after she stopped, crossing her
arms on her chest and returning his stare that he actually gave up his
attention on her and started looking around. Odd, she’d worn the new shirt to
attract his attention, and yet, when he’d given it to her, she’d instantly
cooled and glared at him. Was this going to be her vengeance? Some pathetic
immature power struggle?
His eyes kept shifting to her as he looked around. The
living room was a decent size, and it had a beautiful stone fireplace that
extended up to the vaulted ceilings above, but even that failed to capture his
attention for longer than a second.
The house was a large two-story structure with four
upstairs bedrooms, one of which was an impressive master suite that overlooked
the water. Within minutes, he wandered off as she remained in the living room
twiddling her thumbs and trying to calm the tremor in her hands. But ten minutes
later, when she did catch up to him, she found him staring out the windows of
the master bedroom upstairs.
“You know, you must be going for distraction gold
wearing that skirt again today.” His voice had the warm seductive edge that
instantly flushed her skin. “Can’t guarantee I’m going to be paying attention
today any better than the first time.” He’d not bothered to turn to her as he
spoke, but in the silence now, he slowly did round toward her, watching quietly
and intently as he always did with his searing hazel green eyes.
“I chose my outfit unwisely, did I?”
His lips pulled up. And she forced a casual smirk even
as her heart raced.
“No. You chose very wisely. You look beautiful. You
always do.” He didn’t stop his attention from drifting down her figure. His
face looked relaxed, and the tension was gone, but as she watched, he swallowed
and his brow furrowed. “I don’t like the way things are with us.”
“Well, there it is—the truth as told by the one who made
it so.” She instantly regretted saying it, as happened often to Joss.
His expression suddenly cooled, and his nostrils flared
as he breathed. “Tell me, did you try to push me off on Randall?” He was back
to smirking, seemingly having stowed whatever irritation may have been creeping
in.
“Maybe.”
“I thought as much.”
She laughed quietly. He looked almost playful as he
studied her ruefully. She could feel the warmth in her cheeks as she flushed.
“We should probably head to the next house.” But when
she turned to leave, he quickly grabbed her elbow, spinning her to face the
large windows that looked out to the shore in the distance.
She didn’t turn toward him, though. She just stilled in
place, and before she could register his movements, she felt him closing in
behind her body, letting his hand fall to her hip and pulling her into him. She
started panting then. Her bottom was held snug to his groin, and she could feel
the hardness of his arousal against her lower back. His lips tickled her
earlobe as he leaned to her ear.
“I didn’t want you to leave that night.”
She whimpered as she felt the feather light movement of
his lips against that most sensitive skin.
“I wasn’t asking you to. I understand why you did, but
it wasn’t what I wanted.” His free hand gripped her other hip, and he held her
tight to him, leaving not an ounce of space between their bodies. “I want you.”
She stopped breathing then, and he stilled, waiting
behind her. She could feel his heart pounding against her back.
“Isaiah.” Her voice quivered as she whispered it out,
and then he spun her again where she stood and pushed her to the window that
was now behind her.
His hands gripped her cheeks, and his mouth closed in on
hers, but he stopped short, leaving her breathless against his lips that were
mere inches from hers. His eyes bore into her, and all she could manage to do
was grip the sides of his waist, feeling his muscles tighten as she squeezed.
When his forehead sank to hers, she sighed and his grip
on her cheeks loosened. Her face was flushing and warm, and coupled with the
cool glass that touched and chilled the back of her body, her insides were left
not having a clue what to feel at all. She was flushing, she was chilling, she
was shivering and sweating all at once.
“Fuck, Joss. Why is this so hard?” His tone was
desperate, and he shook his head as his thumb brushed gently over her cheek.
“It’s okay.” It didn’t feel okay at all. It felt like he
was two seconds from rejecting her again. She should be thankful for the
rejection, but she wasn’t—not at all. “I know you’re not ready for this.”
She pulled away then, trying to skirt around him,
assuming there was little more to say, but he pulled back.
His hands held her by the cheeks again, and he watched
her. “Shut up.” His words were murmured so close to her lips that she could
feel his lips brush softly against hers as he spoke. And then he was silent. He
let his mouth linger and touch hers without kissing her, and she waited.
Whatever this hurdle was he was standing at, she couldn’t be the one to make
him move past it.
When his lips parted against hers, she started to melt
into him and whimper at the same time. The first kiss was gentle and slow, but
before it even ended, he was pulling her lower lip between his. The smack was
quiet and sweet, and then he was sucking on her top lip. His mouth was
incredibly warm, and when his lips parted again, she felt that warmth push
between her lips along with his tongue.
She could do nothing at all but grip the sides of his
waist, her nails digging in harder and harder the farther his tongue delved and
licked. She pulled him toward her as he held her firmly against the window. His
hips met her body, and she felt his need hard against her stomach, demanding
more, regardless of how much he’d fought against this.
“Fuck.” She murmured it between his tongue leaving her
mouth and hers entering his.
He groaned, and then she was running her tongue along
his as his groan loudened and the pressure of his body against the front of
hers intensified. That cool hard surface behind her began to cover more and
more of her backside as he pushed her harder into it, and then his hands were
gripping her. As one ran down the front of her throat, their mouths continued
to pull, lick, suck, and bite at each other’s lips. He slipped his hand easily
past the loose billowy satin that sat along the low neckline, and then his
fingers slid under the top of her bra, brushing quickly down over the hardened
peak of her nipple. She cried out as his fingertips grazed the over sensitized
and tight bud, and the moan he returned vibrated past her lips and down her
throat.
When the door downstairs suddenly slammed shut, they
both gasped, sucking the breath from one another’s mouths and pulling apart in
unison. She was panting, taking lurching shuttering gasps as she tried to focus
on what was happening. It was the most confusing moment in her life, trying to
shift from the complete and utter sexual frenzy of what they’d been doing back
to the real world, real life, and real slamming doors in one second flat.
“Joss!” Randall’s voice trailed up to them from the main
level.
“Fuck.” She tried to talk through her panting breaths.
Isaiah pulled his hands from her body, letting his still
groping fingertips gently brush across her nipple one last time. She gasped
again, and he calmly watched her face. His rapid breathing and equally fast
blinking said what his still body and expressionless face didn’t. He was
freaking the fuck out just as much as she was.
“Randall?” His head cocked to the side as he questioned
her.
She did nothing but nod in response, still struggling to
breathe enough to talk.
“I think I hate him already,” Isaiah muttered as he
turned from her, clearing his throat and waiting for her to lead him back
downstairs.
She was as silent as he was as she led the way, and she
forced herself to release a deep breath as she stepped off the last stair to
the foyer floor. They found Randall in the kitchen peering into her purse
without touching it. He was a snoop, and if it wasn’t her tits he was
infringing on it, she couldn’t say she was surprised to see it would be her
personal possessions.
“What are you doing, Randall?” Her voice was finally
working again, and as she glared at him, he slowly turned around with a broad
smile on his face.
“Ah, Joselyn. Good of you to show my listing for me.”
She sneered in response.
His eyes zoned in on her tits as he started to talk. “On
my way to pick up a client—” he enunciated it strangely for some odd
reason “—and I thought I’d swing by. I have an open house here this weekend.
Just wanted to make sure everything was in order seeing as the owners are in
Florida for the winter. Didn’t expect to see you—”
Isaiah’s snapping fingers over her right shoulder cut
Randall off and made her jump. When Randall’s focus quickly pulled up at the
sound, Isaiah spoke.
“What part of her are you surprised to see? Because you
can’t seem to find anything but her chest.”
Randall laughed nervously but played off Isaiah’s
comment as a joke. When Isaiah stepped up beside her, his arms were crossed on
his chest and he was glaring. If Randall really thought there was anything
about Isaiah’s demeanor that was joking, then he’d lost his damn mind.
“Have we met?” Randall was suddenly all charm, smiling
ear to ear as he held his hand out to Isaiah.
Isaiah glanced to his outstretched hand before ignoring
it and coolly looking back to the man’s eyes. When Isaiah reached past Randall
to snatch her purse and coat from the kitchen island, he spoke over his
shoulder to her. “We should go. This house is overpriced.” It was, frankly.
“This house has some amazing features. I’m guessing
Joselyn just didn’t point them out—”
“Shut up,” Isaiah muttered as his attention returned to
her.
She could feel her eyes bulging. Isaiah reached to her
chin, pushing it up to close her mouth, and smirked. Of course, Isaiah was
blocking Randall’s view of her, so the man missed her shock.
He helped her into her coat and handed her purse to her
as well. Randall remained quiet the entire time, and they spoke not a word to
the man as they turned and left the house. But the moment the front door was
closed, Isaiah spat out, “Prick,” on an irritated sigh.
She followed him, but when he suddenly stopped and
rounded on her, she nearly walked into his chest.
“The man is aware you have a face, right?”
She balked. “You’re one to talk.” It slipped out. She’d
not forgotten the trouble he had the first time she’d shown him homes.
He glanced slowly to her chest, not hiding the attention
at all, before letting his gaze slowly move back up to her eyes. “Oh, no. I’m
well aware you have a face—quite a lovely one, in fact. Lips too, warm ones.”
He stepped toward her, looking down at her. “And an exceptionally delicious
tongue.” He inhaled slowly.
She stared in a stupor at him. “You kissed me.”
His suddenly rapidly blinking eyes and creased forehead
said he wasn’t expecting that response. Hell, she wasn’t either. It was
literally the only thing that had popped in her head, and naturally, she’d said
it.
He shook his head, chuckling for a moment. “Yes. I’m
aware.” And then as he reached for her mouth, running his thumb along her lower
lip, he continued. “Might have gotten a little carried away given how swollen
and pink your lips are.” His thumb lingered as his eyes followed the path his
thumb ran, and then he cleared his throat as he pulled back.
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Inappropriate
Cohen is a man apart on Bristol Island—an outcast loved by all but separated by his position within the community. Dylan is the newest resident in town, but she arrives with a dark secret and a desire to keep it buried. But when burning attraction is thrown into the mix, his job and her secrets are quickly forgotten—that is until one impetuous decision renders a relationship off-limits, unethical, and utterly inappropriate.
Living next door to one another on the island’s isolated peninsula guarantees their paths will cross time and time again. With fate tempting Cohen to ignore his conscience and, for the first time in his life, gamble with the rules, will he risk everything for Dylan?
And what happens when Dylan’s past suddenly catches up to her? Will she find the strength to bare her soul to him? Or will she let her secrets take them both down?
Sometimes the inappropriate relationship is the most appropriate of them all.
Excerpt
She could tell it was him by nothing more than the
silhouette of his body through the opaque glass of her front door. She stopped
five feet from the door, pausing as a tremor ran through her. But when he
reached up to knock again, she managed to get her feet moving. She pulled the
door open just as his knuckles touched the wood frame surrounding the window in
the door.
His hand froze in mid-air as he stared at her. “Hi,” he
said quietly. His eyes slowly moved down her body, stalling over her breasts.
He made no attempt to hide what he was looking at, and her nipples hardened at
nothing more than the invasive way his eyes studied her.
“Did you come to parade your girlfriend around in front
of me again?” she asked rudely. It was unfair, and she regretted the comment
immediately.
But he ignored it and stepped into her entryway,
shutting the door behind him. He walked to the dining area that sat off her
open kitchen, turning around and staring at her as she followed him. “I’ve now been
slapped twice in the past eight days alone, so maybe you can cut me a little
slack.” And then he took a deep breath. “She’s not my girlfriend, and I didn’t
invite her or want her here.”
Dylan turned to the table, saying nothing as she gripped
into the side of the table with her hands. She was at once relieved and
confused as hell at the same time. She stared down at her table top. “It
doesn’t matter, Co.” She shook her head. “Haven’t we already established that?”
But she felt his hand on the back of her arm, and she
froze. When his other hand gripped gently into her other upper arm, a rush of
breath left her lungs. And then he was against her body, his chest touching her
back, her bottom brushing against the front of his dress pants. But it was his
breath on the side of her neck that put her over the edge, and she whimpered
quietly as she felt his warm exhalation against her skin.
“I like this song,” he said quietly. “I’m pretty sure I
was dancing with another woman while wishing I was dancing with you the last
time I heard it.” He nuzzled against her neck, letting his whiskers brush her
skin. “You looked so beautiful tonight.” She could feel his lips brushing just
under her ear, and her chest shuddered as she tried to inhale. His hands
trailed down the backs of her arms, gently moving over the soft sweater fabric.
They settled at her elbows. “We both know this matters,” he whispered against
her ear this time, just slightly higher than his mouth was the last time.
Her chest was rising and falling quickly, and her knees
were shaking. But it was nothing compared to the violent trembling that took
over her entire body when his hands left her arms and found her waist. She
sucked in a deep breath, and his hands squeezed gently, his thumbs running
along her lower back, and his fingers wrapped around to the sides of her belly.
She could see his reflection behind hers in the window
on the opposite side of the table. It was dark out, and with the pendent lights
over the dining room table lit up, it was nearly like seeing it all in a dimly
lit mirror. She felt his lips and his nose brush along the back of her neck as
he moved from one side of her head to the other. He was a good many inches
taller than she was, but he was angling his head down to her neck, getting his mouth
and nose against that most sensitive skin.
And when he reached the other side of her neck, he spoke
again. “Does your skin tingle and prickle when I’m around like your entire body
is desperate to be touched?”
That was a damn good way to explain it. She nodded.
“Do your fingers tremble, your heart race, your throat
tighten up as though it’s going to suffocate you if you don’t get what you
need?”
“Yes,” she whispered. It was more than a damn good
explanation.
“Does the thought of losing this make your insides turn
black and your soul feel like it’s shattering into a thousand pieces?”
She whimpered quietly as she nodded that time.
His hands trailed low along her hips, slowly descending.
He watched her in the reflection of the window as intently as she studied him
over her shoulder. His palms smoothed over the curve of her hips, taking their
time. They didn’t have far to go. The hem of the short sweater dress clung to
her thighs more than halfway up—the bottom hem even tighter than the marginally
looser body of the dress. And when his fingers passed over the hem to her
tights, he hummed quietly.
“I’ve lost track of the reactions I have to you,” he
said as his fingers brushed along the hem, taunting her. “I don’t know how to
stop wanting you,” he whispered, and then he let his forehead drop to the top
of her shoulder. His fingers peeled the hem of her dress up higher on her
thighs, stopping just under her bottom. When he pushed up under her dress,
rounding the cheeks of her bottom with his palms, she moaned.
He lifted his head, watching her in the reflection again
as he slipped his fingers under the top of her tights and pulled them slowly
down. He swept under the top of her underwear as well, peeling them down with
the tights, and soon, she could feel the cool air on her bottom. He stopped
when her tights hit her mid thighs. One hand glided over her naked bottom
gently before gripping hard into her butt cheek.
She let out a quiet grunt as he squeezed her skin. His
free hand reached up and around her shoulder, and he clutched at her lower jaw,
his fingers along one side of her face, and his thumb anchored along her
opposite jawline. He turned her face toward his as he leaned over her shoulder.
She was suddenly face to face with him, rather than seeing him in the darkened
reflection of the window eight feet away. He was there—his breath touching her
lips, his blue eyes searing into hers. She could see the stubbly hair she’d
come to expect on his face, and after taking all that in, her eyes settled on
his lips. He was so close, surely he was going to kiss her. But he didn’t.
“I’ve wanted to touch that soft, sweet place between
your legs, really touch it, from the first moment I saw you naked.”
She gasped, and he watched her closely his nostrils
flaring. There was only one time he’d ever seen her naked, and they both damn
well knew when it was.
“I want to feel your wetness on my fingers. You’re hot
enough to give me that right now, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
She nodded rigidly as his fingers still held her face in
place. His other hand released its grip on her bottom.
“Bend over the table.” He let go of his hold on her
chin.
She stared straight ahead again, watching him in the
window once more. She focused on the music, letting her eyes close and trying
to calm her nerves as she listened to the words of the song. When she opened
her eyes again, he was studying her patiently in the reflection. She leaned
over. She watched his hand disappear behind her body in the window, and then
she felt it. His fingers ran up the back of her thigh, and then moved between
her legs, slipping between the exposed lips of her sex. He delved, sliding
through her wetness, and as he did his body seemed to crumple to the table
beside her as he groaned.
He planted his elbow just above where her head was
rested to the hard surface, and his breath came in ragged lurching moans as his
fingers stroked. He didn’t push inside her, but he slipped between her lips,
brushing over her clit every time.
“Look at me,” he demanded, and as she turned her head to
the side, he brushed some loose strands of hair away from her face. He pushed a
finger slowly into her. The penetration was agonizingly drawn out, and he
watched her eyes with every inch. “You feel so hot,” he whispered, still
brushing his other fingers along her hairline.
He started plunging in and out of her slowly as she
gasped for air. Nothing he did exceeded the tempo of the music, and his every
breath, stroke of her hair, penetration into her body followed the lulling
melody. His face was so close to hers, and he watched her as he brought her
close with every deep slow thrust. When he pushed a second finger in with the
first, she cried out. For half a second, she thought it might be pain, but he
slid easily and deeply in, stilling at her depths as her sheath trembled around
him. He studied her eyes as she tried to relax. It was intense. Her legs were
barely parted, and the tight set of her thighs left little room for more, but
when he pulled from her, she was still ready to beg for it.
“Please,” she pleaded on a whisper.
“That’s it. Beg for it, Dylan.” His brow was flinched as
though it was painful for him to watch.
“Please,” she whispered again.
His two fingers started to sink into her, slowly
stretching and invading—
Rap rap rap!
She squealed, covering her mouth as the sound escaped
her. His fingers stilled, and he stared at her. She turned her face to the
table, resting her forehead to the hard surface and breathing against it as she
tried to recover from this. The music still surrounded them, but it seemed to
have faded to the background now—almost out of place after the interruption.
“Come on, Co. I know you’re in there,” Caleb hollered.
Dylan turned back to him. Cohen froze, his lips parted,
and he stared at her. “Fuck,” he muttered quietly as he stood up, and he ran a
hand through his hair.
“Your car is in the driveway. So stop arguing with your
sweet neighbor and open the door! I’m locked out of your house!” Caleb
hollered.
Dylan stood quickly, inching her underwear and tights up
her legs, and as she wriggled them back into place, he reached for the hem of
her dress and pulled it back down into place. He said nothing to her, and his
expression was unreadable. She was still trying to remember how to breathe and
think at the same time, and he shook his head subtly as she turned and walked
toward the door. She felt him tug the back hem of her dress down just a bit
further, and she glanced back at him.
“Hey, Dylan,” Caleb said as she pulled the door open.
“He’s not being a dick again, is he?”
Cohen’s hand touched her lower back as he stepped up
beside her, and his thumb ran a gentle arc down her spine.
“I’m not sure what he’s being right now,” she replied
under her breath.
“Asshole’s supposed to come to L.A. over Christmas, but
you say the word, Dylan, and I’ll uninvite his ass and you and I can go to
Disneyland instead.”
She laughed awkwardly.
“We’re not going to Disneyland,” Cohen muttered as he
stepped by her and through the door.
When he turned back, he tried to smile, but it seemed
just as awkward as her pathetic laugh. They ended up staring at each other for
a moment, and when she glanced down along his body, her focus caught on his
hand. It was his right hand, and his thumb was running absently over his index
and middle fingers that still glistened. She glanced back up to his eyes, just
catching him following her line of sight to his hand. He cleared his throat
awkwardly as he looked away.
Caleb stood there with a wrinkled confused brow. “Well…
This is fun,” Caleb muttered. “I can’t tell what’s happening right now.”
Cohen finally rolled his eyes and glanced at Caleb.
“Jim dropped me off,” Caleb commented blandly. “Doors
locked. I’m bored. Let’s go.”
Cohen followed Caleb down the steps to his SUV, but he
glanced back once. His tongue was pushed into his cheek, and as he watched her
for a moment, his forehead furrowed, and he shook his head again.
She walked back into her kitchen, and she rested her
elbows on the counter in front of the speaker doc. She scratched her head. He’d
seemed confused when he was leaving. She was pretty sure he’d instigated this …
thing, so she wasn’t sure she understood his
confusion. Hers? That was easy.
“What the hell just happened?” she said to Mazzy, who
was still singing to her. She reached out, stopping the song, and then she
stood up and reached for her abandoned glass of wine on the kitchen counter.
Her cell phone rang from the dock moments later, and she snatched it up.
“He came back looking for you,” Joss’s voice hissed out
quickly. “He only left to take that gal to the ferry landing and stick her on
the last wind sled back to the mainland.” Joss was speed talking. “He didn’t
even know she was coming. She just called as she was getting off the wind sled
early this evening. But she’s gone now, and he left like thirty minutes ago.”
And then silence.
“Huh…” was all Dylan said in response.
“I bet he feels bad for what happened tonight.”
“Umm…” She scrambled to find the word. “…yeah,” was what
she settled on.
“Honey, I know you don’t want to see him right now, but
I’d say there’s a better than good chance he might be on his way to see you.
You just pull those knickers up and give him hell.”
Dylan stared down at her dress that was sitting a bit
sideways on her body and perhaps slightly stretched out. She’d not managed to
keep her knickers up at all. And giving him hell? Nope. That’s not quite what
she gave him at all.
“Uhh… Yep. I’ll do that.” She said with mock confidence.
“I’ll give him more hell than he can handle.”
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About the Author
Connect with Elizabeth Finn
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Eliza@ElizabethFinnFiction.com
@ElizabethFinn77
Facebook.com/ElizabethFinnFiction
Eliza@ElizabethFinnFiction.com
@ElizabethFinn77
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