The cover created by the wonderful Viola Estrella and excerpt for my holiday novella, The Fifth Day, is here! I hope you enjoy this little taste as we count down to Release Day on October 1st! To say thank you for all your support, there will be a giveaway hosted by Indiesage Promotions. Head over to the Indiesage Facebook Page, like them because they’re awesome, and enter to win a $5 Amazon gift card and an e-copy of my novel, Sunday!
I hope you enjoy the excerpt and cover. Add The Fifth Day to Goodreads, spread the word and thanks for reading!
Alyse felt that familiar tingle between her legs spreading out into her thighs and into her womb. Her body was starting to flush with heat and she realized distantly that her hips had curved inward and then backwards. Then again. So slow that no one would have been able to see, but the crease in Justin’s brow and his short exhalation of breath told her he felt it.
“You gonna let go of my neck now, Alyse? Or are you trying to see how babies are made?”
She laughed, recalling the old joke. He would say that whenever she tickled him, something he hated but was terribly susceptible to. He would pin her down to stop her, or warn her she was going to wind up pregnant if she didn’t stop trying to cop a feel. Even then there had always been that niggling voice in the back of her mind. What would happen if she didn’t stop? What would happen if her fingers dropped below his stomach and traced over the cut of his narrow hips? What if she held onto him tighter instead of pushing away?
What would happen if she called his bluff now?
“And if I said ‘yes’? Huh? You gonna show me what you workin’ wit?”
Justin’s eyebrows raised a full centimeter in response. A laugh escaped his lips. It wasn’t exactly nervous laughter, but the tension in his limbs and the tightness in his lips belied the ease with which he smiled.
“You couldn’t handle all this, mama,” he said with a wink. “Besides, I gotta get up early tomorrow, so I can’t spend hours giving you the full Justin Haas Experience.”
Again that authentic laugh of hers, throaty and feminine, but deeper than normal somehow. She laughed with her whole body and it vibrated through his.
“That’s a shame, J. I’m probably just drunk enough to let you.”
Fuck. He must be really drunk because he was taking her seriously, or at least his body was. He’d already out lasted his welcome in this embrace, but he couldn’t make himself move or laugh her off. He was starting to get hard; a gradual, tentative erection filling his jeans as if even his dick was wary of where this was going. But the little fucker had always had a mind of its own. It was saying, Remember how many times you fantasized about this? And, Damn, she’s warm… And, Did you feel that? I think she’s rubbing her pussy against me, man! All incredibly unhelpful thoughts in this situation. He needed to get up before he had some explaining to do, before he really embarrassed himself.
But, it hadn’t been his imagination. Ever so slightly, so subtly he would have missed it if his entire body wasn’t crying out for more, she rolled her hips against his. A pulse of desire went through his cock, spreading like fire through his limbs. He licked his lips, staring into her eyes for a long moment. Her smile was playful, but her eyes were dark. Something more than a joke was moving under the surface of her innocent drunkenness. Her tongue darted over her lips and his eyes followed the movement, and then watched her take notice of where his gaze was directed. Her head tilted slowly to the side, her eyes watching his face. He wondered what she saw.
She could feel him hardening against her. His eyes changing to a color she hadn’t seen before. Deep blue, with only a hint of green around the iris; a blue that was like drowning in the depths of the ocean. Was this what other girls saw when he was on top of them like this? Was this what she wanted to see now?
Yes, a tiny voice growled, much louder than the voice of reason. It’s about time.
That voice in her head made her speak aloud, made her lift her hips, knowing that asking her next question would push her past the boundaries of joking. Moving to a place where Justin could either accept what she was suggesting, or forever close the door on the possibility.
“Do you want to see how much you can get away with, Justin?” She’d only whispered the words, but her fingers echoed her intent when they brushed lightly over the soft hair at the base of his neck. “I’ll let you,” she breathed. “If you want.”
He swallowed. Let him what? Kiss her? Fuck her? That was left up to him to figure out, if he were willing. She was offering. She was lying under him, telling him he could take what he wanted if he just had the courage. And he would have an out if he chose; he could blame it on the drinks they’d had, on her sadness, on his need to get laid. He could write it all off as a crazy lapse in judgment induced by her eyes and her rolling hips, instead of years of secret longing.
If only it were that easy to play the fool. He was drunk, but he wasn’t that far gone. He knew when the sun came up he’d feel this, he’d remember this. He’d wanted it for so long, how could he not? She would remember, too, and there would be no going back. So, why didn’t he care more? Why wasn’t he getting up, punching her in the shoulder to let her know he’d forget it all and blame it on the alcohol? Why was he leaning down, his eyes closing and his face tilting to the side, licking his lips as he prepared to taste hers for the first time since they were kids in the summertime?
He hesitated, his lips hovering over hers. Remembering that day made him realize not much had changed over the years. She was lost now just like she was then, in a more complicated way. She was relying on him to help her find her way, and he couldn’t do that by taking advantage of an offer made out of loneliness. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
He smiled and a huff of laughter escaped his lips. He shook his head, opening his mouth to apologize.
“You’re taking too long,” she said, cutting him off first with her words, and then with the feel of her lips pressing against his.
She leaned up as she pressed the back of his head down. Her lips were soft and wet, her tongue hesitating for less than a second before it slid inside his shock-parted lips. She tasted the sweetness of his mouth, and the bitter taste of beer. But the alcohol was a dull taste, dulled by being drunk and forcing herself not to think about what she was doing. She didn’t want to think anymore. She only wanted to feel.
She rolled her hips up into his and sighed when a strangled sound vibrated in his throat. The muffled sound of his moan made her pussy practically quiver. It was a deeper sound than his actual voice, desperate and feral. It made her press her body tighter against him, her breasts smashed against his chest as she hungrily sought out the taste of his desire for her.
He tried to lift himself off, though of course he didn’t try hard enough, and before long he was sinking into her, pressing every hard inch of his body down into the softness of hers. He tasted her mouth, brought his hands to the sides of her face, and the coolness of his fingers were warmed by the heat of her cheeks. He nibbled on her bottom lip and then suddenly tore his mouth away from hers.
“Fuck,” he whispered trying to catch his breath. The feel of her lips and tongue against his neck stole it from him.
“Yeah,” she whispered against his jaw, her full lips curving into a seductive smile. “Fuck…that’s what I wanna do…”