Lisa Burstein

This Be Where I Blog

TEASER TUESDAY Candy Stripped

on November 5, 2013

My New Adult Contemporary novel Candy Stripped comes out in a MONTH! And the cover, blurb and trailer reveal will be next Thursday! I’m so excited that I thought I would share a sexy scene I just wrote, that even my editor hasn’t seen yet.

Enjoy!

I put the tequila down, lay back on the sand, and put my hands on both sides of my head. “I want to apologize again for last night. You’re not who I’m mad at.”

“Really?” James asked. “That’s new and different.”

“Mad is the wrong word,” I said, turning to him. “Disappointed, I guess.”

“Your parents?”

I nodded. “They’ll never accept this. What I want for my life. Being a writer will always be foolish in their eyes.”

“If you want it, how can it be?” The words came out so quickly, he didn’t even have time to think. It let me know he believed it. That it was his truth.

“I know.” I sighed. “But it’s a little hard to remember when my cheering section is a guy I’ve slept with.”

And Mandy, I thought.

“We’ve never technically slept,” he said, turning sideways and resting his head on his arm.

(Super-hot double entendre alert.)

He moved in close to my ear. “I’d cheer for you anyway,” he whispered.

“I’m starting to believe you would.”

“Now if you were doing something you didn’t want to do,” he said, tracing his finger lightly on my thigh, “that would be foolish. For example.” He tapped his finger for emphasis. “Pushing me away when it’s obvious you want me.”

“Ego much?” I asked.

“Hey, I mean, you did jump me in a parking lot…and in your apartment…and in a cab,” he said, his finger punctuating each entry on his list.

“I did not jump you,” I said, but I couldn’t help smirking.

“You did,” he said, “and I liked it.” He paused. “I kind of can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Me neither,” I admitted.

“So why don’t we stop thinking about it.” He kissed me, firmly, like he was compensating for what our fight had interrupted the night before. We made out like teenagers who were afraid to do anything else, a kind of determined groping. Each kiss felt like oxygen, the only thing keeping me alive. He moved on top of me, our lips inseparable. He fit perfectly into my curves, his chest and hips to mine, our skin salty and sandy.

He stopped and ran his thumb against my cheek. “How about not sleeping together some more?” he asked.

“I’m not tired,” I breathed out, the sky a reflection of the vast ocean darkening above us.

I waited for him to put on a condom, but before that, he reached over me for the picnic basket, removed the baguette and took a bite from it like it was a carrot. “I’m going to need all my strength for this.”

He was slow, tender, his eyes on mine, holding me as strongly and surely as his arms. I let myself sink into him, completely submerge. This was what I wanted, always. He was what I wanted, always and the way he was looking at me, his brown eyes as exposed as our bodies were, let me know he felt the same.

He kissed me and through his lips I could hear the roar of him—a growl from deep, calling for me, begging for me. He moaned my name and I echoed with his.

“Candice,” he said, “Candice,” he repeated more forcefully, my name becoming his mantra.

“James,” I sighed, his name becoming my song.

Our bodies drowned against each other, thrusting in sync like the waves, in and out, in and out, the rhythm of nature, of two people realizing they should never have an ocean, a highway, or a classroom between them again.


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