Code Name: Love
Staff Sergeant Tyler Benson is a survivor. He doesn't give up on what he wants, and right now, he wants Cassandra Stephanopolous. He thought about her every single day he was gone. Now that he's back, nothing will stop him from making her his. Plan of Action: Crash Seattle's biggest billionaire-bachelorette auction and make sure he comes out the highest bidder. If he wins a date with Cassie, she'll have to talk to him.
Three years. It's been three years since Cassie said goodbye to Tyler, and she's been trying to pick up the pieces ever since. Just as she's starting to feel ready to move on, he walks in, all cocky smiles and blue-collar charm. She's determined to keep her focus where it should be: on her thriving jewelry business. But as he lays siege to her heart, she wonders just how long her defenses will last . . .
Excerpt
As she stepped
up to the lane again, he should’ve tossed another cocky taunt at her, some
barely disguised innuendo, but he could only watch. Despite her protests
regarding bowling, they were having a good time. His head had been quiet so
far. Not once in the last hour and a half had he thought of that fucking cell
in Iraq. The crowd around him, the deafening noise, hadn’t triggered anything
ugly, because he was lost in her, in keeping her smiling and laughing.
By the fourth
game two hours later, they both played so lousy he laughed every time he
stepped up to the lane. Cassie, though, was ahead by five points. This game
would decide who won his little bet.
As it turned out, his ball curved off
into gutter. Leaving all ten damn pins still standing.
Cassie let out
a victorious squeal behind him, meeting him at the ball return with a grin
plastered across her face and her chest puffed out with pride. She stepped into
his personal space and poked him in the chest. “You. Are. Mine. I won, fair and
square, soldier boy.”
He leaned down
and touched his nose to hers. She might have won, but he could still pull a few
punches of his own. “I’ve always been yours. Believe me, princess, I’m going to
enjoy letting you have your way with me.”
That got her.
Cassie froze, heat flaring in her eyes. A heady shiver moved through her as she
stared up at him. “So, what now?”
“Well, that
depends on you, but”—he leaned his head beside her ear and lowered his
voice—“I’m dying to peel you out of those jeans.”
Her breathing
hitched. When he met her gaze again, she stared at him for one tension-filled
moment, grabbed his hand, and marched off, tugging him behind her. He followed
in silence out of the bowling alley and into the quiet of the night. She didn’t
say a word or even turn to look at him as she led him to where his brother’s
car was parked at the back of the lot. Once there, she pressed him against the
driver’s door. Hands braced on his chest, she lifted onto her toes and captured
his mouth, all fire and determination. She pushed her tongue inside, her kiss
hot and desperate, and he was pretty sure they were both shaking.
As suddenly as
she’d kissed him, she released him, pausing a moment to catch his gaze. Hers
was filled with the same need that had him tongue-tied. Then she moved around
to the passenger side of the car.
His fingers shook as he dug his keys
from his pocket and hit the fob. Once the doors unlocked, she climbed inside.
When he got in after her, she reached over and threaded her fingers with his.
“You should get this car moving, because in about two seconds, I’m going to
climb into that seat with you. I need you. I…”
She shook her
head, glancing over at him, vulnerability rising in her eyes.
She didn’t have
to say the words. What she meant hung in the air, igniting a solar flare
between them. She needed what he needed. Something soft and slow. A complete
meshing of bodies. He had a feeling they really wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.
Not out of physical need, but the soul-deep desire to be as close as possible.
To make up for lost time. Three years apart was a lifetime, and the need in her
eyes, mixing with the tears hovering at the edges of her lashes, told him she
thought something similar.
He squeezed her fingers, then pushed the
button to start the car and moved their combined hands to the gearshift. “Me,
too, baby. Me too.”
GIVEAWAY
About the Author
J.M. Stewart is a coffee and chocolate addict who lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, two sons and two very spoiled dogs. She's a hopeless romantic who believes everybody should have their happily ever after and has been devouring romance novels for as long as she can remember. Writing them has become her obsession.
Social Media Links
No comments
Post a Comment
I just love hearing what you have to say. Drop me a few lines. 8-D