Sept. 11, 2015
The wrong bed. The wrong guy.
Party planner Vicky Stone is on a post-divorce mission. Not only does she intend to land her dream promotion, she's going to indulge in a night of hot hook-up sex. Preferably with the hunky actor she just met at a work function, no-fraternization rules be damned. Fortunately, his drunken directions included a right that should have been a left, landing her in bed with her brother's extra-hot, extra-off-limits best friend instead of the unemployment line.
And, oh, he feels good. Too good.
Bad boy Dante Palladino's forbidden fantasies are about to come true...until Vicky realizes who she's feeling up. And to find out she risked her job for sex with some loser? Not on his watch. Dante throws down the ultimate, albeit self-serving, blackmail. Vicky will date him-and only him-and her secret will be safe. But Vicky swore never to fall for another guy who could break her heart...and Dante's on course to do just that.
Dante had been sound asleep, dreaming of Vicky. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the first in a long time. Seeing her tonight had brought back every inch of his desire for her. In his dream, she’d come to his room and curled up next to him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Which was why, when he felt a presence in his bed, he didn’t think it was real.
He was even more certain his imagination was fucking with him when he discovered it was her. Then her hand had wrapped around his cock, and he thought he’d died and gone to some strange sinner’s heaven.
She started toying with his apadravya piercing, and shivers raced through his body. That, combined with the idea of being inside her and hearing her call his name as she tightened around him, was almost enough to make him come on the spot. He rolled toward her, wrapping her in his arms. “I told you I only showed the piercing to women I really liked.”
Her movements paused for a second, and then she jerked back, thrusting his arms away. In her haste to move, she rolled out of the bed and hit the floor with a thud. “Son of a bitch!”
Dante flicked on the light next to the bed. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
She pushed herself onto her arms, her shirt falling open to reveal a lacy bra that removed the need for what little bit of imagination he’d utilized for those dreams. A crimson flush raced up her tan skin, coloring her neck and spreading to her cheeks. “I... It’s just... You’re you, that’s what’s wrong.”
“Vicks, I was me when you snuck in my room and crawled into bed with me.” The stammering had been cute, but she had the deer-in-the-headlights look that he knew would have her bolting from the room if he didn’t calm her down.
When she stood, her skirt rode up, flashing him a view of her ass that removed even more need for imagination. She had the most adorable birthmark—a slightly darker patch of skin shaped almost like a heart. Damn, was there an inch of her that wasn’t perfect? Then she yanked on the fabric, promptly removing the temptation to see how well she fit in his hands. She bit her lip, and the red in her cheeks went even darker. “You were supposed to be Reed. He said this was his room.”
Reed? Dante blinked, trying to put two and two together. No matter how much he worked at it, though, the answer didn’t make sense. “Reed Russell?”
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