I'm a 20-something sci-fi nerd with a journalism degree and a serious York Peppermint Pattie addiction. I spend my days baby-wrangling and dog-chasing and my nights tapping on my laptop and hanging out with my writer/editor husband. A fun day for me involves lots of writing, running, and researching topped off with some quality Kindle time. My life's goal is to find an empty cottage in an enchanted forest, install a solar panel for my laptop, and move in - never to be seen again, except in sweatpants.
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Blinded by a haze of lust, I sail into the room, flaps of emerald silk flying around me, my hand already reaching between my legs.
Through my mental fog, I notice the vastness of the bedroom. My eyes slide over the flames blooming in a marble fireplace and I spot a tasseled pillow tossed haphazardly, inches from the fire. My attention settles on the bed; it's huge, with four mahogany posts and a deep green bedspread that matches my gown almost perfectly. I dimly note a surprising lack of pillows, just before I trip on one. I glance down at my feet, surprised to find I am standing in a sea of pillows. I glance around, still panting, and notice a broken mirror hanging beside a small armoire.
I'm confused and, for a second, worried, but another glance around the room reveals nothing else out of the ordinary. I assume someone has used the room for a party quickie. That turns me on even more, and I rush back to the door, locking it behind me before striding back to the bed.
It's ridiculous. I'm still blazing hot. I feel full and restless. Desperate. I know what I need. I've never done this outside my bedroom, but Hunter West does something strange to me, so I'm not entirely surprised—nor am I inclined to stifle my desire. I'm a grown woman, and God knows I'm the only one with a say-so in my sex life. Why not do what I want? Ten minutes, and I'll be back out in the hall, feeling a lot more level-headed. It's win-win.
I grin as I scoot up onto the mattress, inhaling the sweet scent of leather and cologne as I lean back on the only remaining pillow. Sweaty and trembling, I part my legs and reach under my gown. My fingers have just found their mark when a shadow rises from the floor space on the other side of the bed.
Hunter is shirtless and sweat-slicked, with dark eyes and a twisted mouth. He wipes his forehead, squinting, and speaks in a voice that sounds strangely far away. "Is that you, Libby?"
I can't speak. I can't even move for the longest moment. When I find my voice, I sound like I'm choking. "Libby? N-no."
Oh dear God, he's beautiful. I am in awe of his shoulders. His pecs. My heart is racing, and under my gown, I quiver in response to—well, it must be pheromones. I have the urge to grab his arms and pull him down beside me on the bed. Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut.
Oh God. I'm done. I was an outcast before, but my old crowd will really slay me now.
I have no idea what he's talking about anymore, because my brain has turned to soup. I'm all glowing, glittering sensation as his green gaze sweeps me from toes to crown. His brows are slightly gathered, his mouth still tight. Firelight illuminates his face, so I can see the exact moment he realizes what I've been doing. His torso stiffens as his hands, pressed against the mattress, curl into big fists. He makes a low, approving sound and speaks in a voice that sounds like molten lava.
"That’s so sexy."
I look down at my hand, still tangled in my gown. "It is?" I search his face.
"Oh, yeah. Hell yeah." He's on the bed with me that next second, his gym-ripped body licked by the glow of flames. I gasp when he grabs my hips and turns me toward him. His eyes are flaring, and I expect him to let go of my fleshy hips. I'm already recoiling, hating myself for humiliating myself in front of this man. Instead he pulls me closer, locking both hands around my big ass and squeezing.
"Let me get you off," he purrs. I feel a throb between my legs, followed by a rush of needy warmth.
Excerpt from Selling Scarlett ©2013 by Ella James. All rights reserved.
Hunter West is tired. Tired of parties, tired of pretending, and tired of trying to right a wrong that haunts him every day. Bourbon heir and professional poker player by day, by night Hunter is gambling with his life in a high-stakes game of crime and blackmail.
When Elizabeth stumbles into Hunter's den of vices, she's a light in the darkness, a flame in the void. And, just like everything he touches, Hunter mars her in a record time. To rectify the damage done, Elizabeth needs money she doesn't have, and she's come up with a foolproof way to get it.
Follow Elizabeth—code-named Scarlett—to the lush Nevada brothel where she'll auction her virginity and risk the only thing that's not for sale: her heart. The highest bidder is a familiar face, with wicked hands and the devil's mouth. And a secret so dark that it could cost her life.
***RECOMMENDED FOR READERS 17+ DUE TO SEXUALITY AND MATURE LANGUAGE.***
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