The Big Eargasm Audio Bundle

Excerpt from Having the Ex-Military Billionaire's Baby:

It’s the fifth time he’s touched me. Second time he’s touched my skin. First time he’s done anything this familiar. I’ve been tracking it, just like I’ve been counting the breaths we take together somewhere in the back of my mind. Something about him is derailing to my usual caution, and it’s not the smile, the handsome face, the tailored suit.

He gives me the hardest look, and the softest tone I’ve ever heard. “You don’t have to hide with me, LaTisha. You’re safe.” I suck in a sharp breath.

That’s not fair. His hands are just a little rough, grip strong, and he’s warm, close, hard-eyed, softlipped. I see him look from my eyes down to my mouth, and my lips part just a little, breath picking up.

I’ve never felt this way with anyone. Not Trent, not the couple of boys I dated before or since. Not even about my favorite vibrator, which is my most fulfilling relationship anymore.

A heat rises in me, a need, and I shift, tension winding tighter in my core.

He notices, eyes flicking down to the wind of my hips, back up to my mouth.

“Who’s hurting you?” he demands.

I feel like I’m on a precipice. Like I’m barely hanging on, about to fall far, far below. Like I’m in danger.

Oh, but it feels good.

I cling to the happy facade by my fingertips. This whole thing unravels if he thinks he’s on the right track.

“Only hurt here is the end-of-bottle blues,” I say, then drain the quarter of a bottle of wine I have left. “I’ll get us more, hold on.”

I go to pull my feet under me, and he lets me up just enough that when he gives a soft tug on my wrist, I fall, bent backwards a little. He does some little trick, some twist of the hands or something that I don’t track, twirls me around until I’m caught on his lap, straddling him.

My facade snaps, sharp enough that I can almost hear it. I can’t be in his lap, I can’t be straddling him, not in this dress, not this drunk, not this close. I can already feel my hem riding up my thighs, my hair starting to come down out of its updo.

“Don’t,” I tell him.

He settles a hand on the side of my throat, over my pulse, and damn him but it makes me feel safer.

“Please, Corbin.”

His lips part just a little, and I watch a little more color rise in his cheeks. Between us, I feel a new sensation. Hardness. A hardness I feel throb.

Useful fucking information. Information useful for fucking.

Drunk and horny, the LaTisha Baker special. Now is so not the time.

“Hey,” he says, drawing my attention back to his mouth. His thumb pushes my jaw up further, a soft stroke of skin that brings my eyes back to his. “Your heart’s beating like a hummingbird’s wings. It’s ok.” He glides a thumb over my cheekbone, and I feel him catch a tear, smear it along the carefully applied highlighter that I hate.

“If I tell you, the spell breaks.”

“No. Just the fear does.”

I groan a little noise of distress, try to back away.

He just tugs me forward with the hand on my throat again. “Come here, LaTisha, let me take care of you.”

Lightning strikes, from the top of my spine all the way to down through me. I feel it spark through my arms and legs, right down into the center of me, where it starts a !re. Let me take care of you.

That’s all I ever wanted. Someone to take care of me. Someone I can take care of.

“It’s Evelyn. My mother-in-law. She has me trapped like a bird in a cage.”

Something blood-thirsty comes into his eyes, and he drags me toward him with an arm around my waist. “How?”

“The contract and the divorce papers—it’s like a set of handcuffs. She owns me.”

His eyes snap to mine. “No one owns you.”

And then he drags me down to seal his lips to mine, and I’m lost.