Not all love stories play by society’s rules.
Max strolled in like he owned the place, which was appropriate, considering he did own the place. But did he have to do it looking sexier than any man should be allowed to be?
I clutched my hand over my heart. “Max, you scared the living shit outta me! I thought a maniac had stuck around after hours.”
“My apologies, Ms. Jennings,” he said.
Bree. Bree. Bree. I wished he’d stop with the formalities and go back to calling me Bree, the way he used to before our relationship had gone sideways.
“It’s okay,” I said, readjusting the strap of my travel bag. “My mind was…elsewhere.”
Max nodded, looking me up and down with the Texas-sky-blue eyes that fueled my fantasies, and my heart kicked up a few more beats per minute. That time, however, my reaction had nothing to do with fear.
Why’d he have to be so damned sexy?
Tanned, muscular, and topping six foot, he was a walking wet dream, and the stimulating hum between my legs, the one that had been driving me crazy all night, morphed into a high-powered tingle. I doubted even my trusty Rabbit could ease the ache.
I love managing Red Light Lingerie, a sexy boutique in Dallas. I get to spend my days talking to people about bedroom wear, sex toys, and enhancement lotions for all occasions. But by far, my favorite erotic job perk is my sexy British boss, Maxwell Penn.
Max is a Matthew McConaughey look-alike who’s equal parts dreamboat and domineering pain in the neck, and I regularly fluctuate between “I want to bed him” and “I want to strangle him.” But still, yum.
The paradigm of our relationship, however, changes irrevocably when a lingerie designer, a friend of Max’s from Britain, comes to town, and I have to stand in for a no-show lingerie model. Before I can say G-string, I find myself sandwiched between Max and his dark-n-sexy friend.
I’d be in total heaven if it weren’t for the guilt swirling in Max’s blue eyes. I have no idea why it’s there, but I’m bound and determined to find out.
Publisher’s Note: This book contains descriptions of consensual activities, including eroticism and discipline. If you object to these elements, please do not read this book.
About the Author:
Brandi Evans was raised by a caravan of traveling Gypsies. She spent her days learning the ways of her people and her nights lost in legends as old as time. Okay, not really, but that's way more interesting than the truth!
In reality, Brandi grew up the oldest child of an ordinary family. Grade school, middle school, high school. Nothing extraordinary happened until she left the nest. She joined the military, went to college, got married, and became a mom. And somewhere along the way, she discovered she liked to read—and write!—stories hot enough to melt eReaders.
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