Since it’s after noon, and technically, April Fool’s is over, I want to post a teaser from my new novel, which will be officially released on April 9, 2013:
“A letter to my sub:
You trust me completely to know what you need. And I do know what you need. I know what to whisper in your ear to make you need me even more. I know how to touch, where to touch, when to touch.
I know you.
You can relax completely with me. You can feel everything possible with me. You can respond with total abandon with me.
That is what I most desire.”
So begins an enticing letter from an anonymous Dominant to his new submissive.
While graduate student Kate McDermott waits in a Manhattan cafe to meet the Dom who will help with her research on BDSM, she reads the letter again, telling herself her interest is strictly academic. If she’s honest, Kate must admit it’s more than that – it’s a deeper need she can’t deny.
When Drake Morgan, MD, neurosurgeon, bass player, philanthropist walks through the cafe door to talk to her about the lifestyle, Kate is mortified. The son of her father’s oldest and best friend, Drake is far too desirable and too much a part of her social circle for comfort. If she decides to go through with this, can the carefully-worded agreement she draws up restrain their undeniable desire for each other?
Unable to resist his determined seduction, Kate begins an intense relationship with Drake that pushes all of her, and Drake’s, boundaries. Highly erotic, The Agreement is a love story that will stay with you long after you finish reading.
From Chapter Seven of The Agreement:
I inhaled deeply and tried to calm myself, for my heart was racing a bit too fast because of everything. My hands shook just a bit, and I felt as if I couldn’t catch my breath.
I had to leave. I had to get out of there.
I stood and grabbed my bag.
“Excuse me,” I managed to whisper as I crept past Drake to the aisle and out of our box seats to the hallway. I gasped when I was finally away from them, from him and leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath.
I started walking and found a side exit. I left the building completely, standing outside in the November chill, my arms bare, but the cool air felt good on my skin. I leaned against the building and stared straight up into the sky. It was clear with a few faint stars peeking through Manhattan’s light pollution.
The door opened beside me. Drake…
“Kate, what on Earth are you doing out here? It’s freezing out, for God’s sake.”
He grabbed my arm, but I pulled free and stood my ground. My knees were too shaky to try to walk away, so I just stayed where I was, leaning against the wall, my arms wrapped around me.
“Just leave me. I need some air.”
I closed my eyes, for they were starting to tear up again and I hated myself for being so weak. For being a stupid female in front of him. I bit my lip until it hurt and blinked rapidly, turning my face away from him.
He removed his suit jacket, leaving him in his crisp white shirt and black tie. Then, he manhandled me, pulling me away from the wall, wrapping me in his jacket, which smelled of him and was so warm. He tightened it around me, his face dark.
“There,” he said and then he tipped my face up so that I had to look in his eyes. I tried to avoid him as if he was some kind of drug, for he was, and I was weak…
Our eyes finally met and I felt this jolt of something go through me from my chest to my groin.
“Oh, fuck, Kate,” he said almost groaning. He pressed against me, his hips pinning me to the wall, his arms on the bricks beside my head. He kissed me, and it wasn’t the kiss he gave me earlier in the concert hall, soft and tender. It was passionate, his mouth harsh against mine, his lips parting, his tongue finding mine, searching my mouth. One hand slipped behind my head, the other tangled in my hair, which he pulled out of its clip so that it fell around my shoulders.
The kiss went on and on, my heart racing, his thigh jammed between mine. He dropped his hand to my breasts, his fingers caressing the tops of them, his mouth moving to my neck beneath my ear, his tongue wet against my skin. When his hand moved lower to hike up my skirt, his hand stroking my leg up as if in search of garters, I emerged from the lust-filled stupor.
He stopped, his breath coming in short harsh gasps.
“Tell me you don’t want me,” he said, his voice low.
I glanced away, for his eyes scared me. I couldn’t say I didn’t want him. My body betrayed me. I was wet and swollen and my heart pounded.
“I thought so,” he said and started kissing me again, roughly, his hand on my thigh, then around between my legs, his fingers searching me, pressing against me…
Read an excerpt: