A one night stand? Not if you arrange to have another.
When Ruth Watson finally decides to break her depressive state of singleness and get back out on the social scene, the last thing she expects to happen is meet Mr Right and share a moment of passion in the middle of the buzzing city… But she does.
After meeting Heath Berkley on her first venture out after two years of hermit like existence, Ruth’s life suddenly becomes exciting for the first time. As their meetings become more frequent, and their love affair blossoms, a common interest between the pair is found.
Agreeing to explore their unveiled kinkier sides while Heath is in town on business, Ruth finds herself rapidly slipping under his spell and craving more of him.
But when their journey into the darker side introduces them to George Randall, things take a sinister turn, and when his true identity is revealed, Ruth has a hunger for revenge.
Knowing there is only one place she wants to be, Ruth follows Heath’s disciplinary hand to the Highlands of Scotland, in hope that his healing arms will squeeze the pain and devious thoughts away. At least until she has to return to London.
As the night progresses, and the tender does as instructed, I find myself becoming tipsy and more confident as I gaze at the stubble-chinned guy with the great suit, and occasionally try to catch his eye. But no such luck.
Turning my back to him and giving myself a telling off for being so desperate, I notice that the club has grown busier. With the ever-increasing number of bodies giving off their warmth, the bar suddenly becomes unbearably hot. I shrug my shoulders high and shake my jacket down, imprisoning it between my back and the bars on the top of the stool. Then, tossing my long hair to one side and exposing my bare neck and shoulder, I sit and watch a couple that have just got up to dance. Their casual swaying soon turns suggestive, and I keep my eyes glued on them as I blindly reach out for my glass, grasp it, and place it on my lap.
“Can I buy you a drink?” A warm hand rests on my naked shoulder.
Turning to see that it’s the dish I have been ogling all night, I nervously bite my lip and murmur an indecisive, “Umm.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer,” he says with a smile across his angelic yet troubled face.
My lips curl mischievously. “Well, in that case, I suppose I’ll have to say yes.”
He lifts his hand to the barman and says, “Another for the lady, and I’ll join her,” before walking behind me and creating a breeze that causes goose bumps to rise on the back of my neck.
With my eyes anchored on him as he straddles the stool beside me and hands the tender a crisp note, my thoughts become all sorts of inappropriate as I imagine what his fuck face might look like if I straddled him like he just did that stool.
My filthy thoughts are interrupted when our drinks are placed in front of us. My God, Ruth, stop it, you hussy.
I refocus my thoughts and thank him for the beverage as he pushes his hair back from his face. I admire his strong jaw line, and how he clenches it every now and again as though he is chewing over his next sentence.
“You’re welcome.” He smiles, holding out his big manly hand. “I’m Heath.”
I take it without hesitation. “I’m Ruth.”
In my head it’s more like, ‘I’m yours’ as I rip his shirt off his back, and we have breathless frantic sex like they do in the Hollywood blockbusters.
Jesus, what is the matter with me? I had no idea I was so frustrated.
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C.A.Bell was born and raised on the outskirts of London, England, but for the past three years has resided in a much more rural town of Shropshire, where she and her husband married and made a home.
C.A.Bell is currently working on her second book to follow The Architect, and aspires to be a well-known full-time author.
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