I hope you love Reece and Jenna (and all the rest of the guys and girls) as much as I do!
Damn Reece. He’d ruined everything.
Okay, maybe not everything. He did rescue her from a dark parking lot in an unfamiliar section of South Austin, after all. But then he’d kissed her, and now there was this thing between them. And the whole situation was an awkward, horrible mess.
Well, maybe not the whole situation. The kiss had been incredible. But the rest of it was horrible. Confusing and uncomfortable. Because she and Reece and Brent had always been a threesome. A perfect plutonic triangle.
At least, that’s what she’d been telling herself ever since she moved back to Austin.
Telling herself? Try lying to herself.
She should have put a stop to it. If she was any kind of woman—any kind of friend—she should have shoved hard against his chest, pushed him firmly away, and told him that there was nothing but friendship between them.
But she hadn’t.
God help her, she’d kissed him back. And even now, she could feel the echo of that kiss reverberating through her soul, hot and deep and wild and brutal.
“You’re an idiot, Jenn,” she whispered to herself. “A Grade-A, one-hundred-percent, award-winning idiot.”
“Maybe,” a deep voice said from the doorway. “But you’re an adorable one.”
She kept her head down, certain her cheeks were flushed. God knew the rest of her was. The sound of his voice alone had made her skin go hot and her nipples peak. And there was a dangerous tingling between her thighs…
Best not to lift her head. She’d just keep working, and he’d go away. He was a smart man, after all. Surely, he’d get the hint.
“Jenna.” His voice was firm. Commanding. And it cut through her like an electric current leading to all her most private parts. “Dammit, Jenna, look at me.”
She obeyed, tilting her chin as she raised her eyes, then inhaled sharply at the sight of him leaning against the doorjamb. The faded jeans that hung low on his hips. His muscles that strained under the white cotton Tee. The shirt hid most of his ink, but the art on his ripped biceps and forearms was on full display. Two vibrant sleeves of intertwined leaves, petals, and waves that not only drew her attention, but also reminded her of the way he’d held her last night. The strength as he’d pulled her close. The confidence as he’d kissed her hard.
The memory of last night washed over her, sparking a wild, liquid heat that burned through her, making her a little crazy. And very, very needy.
She looked down again, took a deep breath to steady herself, then lifted her eyes to his face. “You really shouldn’t be here.”
“We need to talk.”
She made a scoffing sound as she pushed out of her chair and stalked around the desk. “Talk? Maybe you should have thought of that before you accosted me in the parking lot.”
“Accosted?” The corner of his mouth rose just slightly. “Is that what I did? I could have sworn it was a rescue.”
“You’re smiling?” She heard the edge in her voice and was glad about it. She welcomed irritation, even anger. Anything to stifle the burning need that had begun to pulse between her thighs.
“You think this is funny?” She took another step toward him. “Do you know what you’ve done? What you’ve destroyed? Brent—”
“—doesn’t have a claim on you.”
“And you do?” she snapped.
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment she thought he was going to ignore the question. But then his gaze raked over her, the quick inspection somehow more possessive than last night’s kiss had been. “I guess that depends on you.”
His words surprised her. Considering the nature of that heated glance, she’d almost expected him to take her by the hair and drag her to him caveman smile. And it flustered her to realize that part of her actually wanted that. In theory, if not in actual practice.
Confused and frustrated, she shook her head, trying to clear it. “Brent’s my friend, too, and he—”
“He what?” Reece demanded. He stepped closer, then crooked his finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “He wants you, too? Then why the hell isn’t he standing here?”
“Don’t.” Her voice was thick. Husky. And right then the only thing she knew in the whole world was the pressure of his finger burning against her skin. “Reece, please. You can’t—”
“Why isn’t he looking at you? Why isn’t he touching you?”
She gasped as his free arm slid around her waist, pulling her body toward his. At the same time, she realized that he’d taken his finger off her chin. Now his hand was cupping the back of her head, his fingers twined in her thick auburn curls, his grip forcing her to look up at him.
“If Brent wants you, then why isn’t he here instead of me? Why isn’t he kissing you? Why isn’t he taking what’s his?”
“You aren’t either,” she whispered, knowing she was playing with fire. “You’re not kissing me.”
She felt more than heard his low groan. It vibrated through him, a potent mix of pleasure and torment that culminated in a violent passion when his mouth closed roughly over hers, claiming her just as he said he would.
Just as she’d wanted him to, damn her.
The kiss was hot and hard, and she didn’t even try to fight it. She opened her mouth to his, and lost herself to the taste of him. The sweep of his tongue as he explored her mouth. The nip of his teeth against her lips. This wasn’t a kiss, it was a stand-in for sex, and every cell in her body knew it. Her skin felt flush, her nipples hard as stones. And the ache between her thighs was so intense that it took a monumental effort to keep from straddling his thigh and rubbing herself shamelessly against him simply to relieve the pressure.
As if he understood her need, he shifted his stance, and the hand that had been at her waist now slid up under her shirt, pressing gently against the bare flesh at the small of her back. At the same time, he broke the kiss, his mouth traveling down until he found her breast. She wore a Fix on Sixth T-shirt and no bra, not having seen the point considering the place was closed today, and she’d come in this evening only to catch up on work.
He sucked and bit through the material, making her squirm, then dropped lower until he was on his knees, and his hands were on her hips. He bent forward, his mouth going to her lower abs as his fingers found the button of her jeans. One flick, and the button was open. One quick zip, and the jeans were as well.
“Reece,” she said, as he kissed her above the band of her cotton panties, but whether she was trying to deter or encourage him, she really didn’t know. For that matter, all she did know was the way the skin in the wake of his lips rippled, sending electric sparks zinging throughout her body. She was wet now—so very wet. And she felt the quickening between her thighs. She wanted his touch. His fingers. His mouth. His cock.
Some coherent part of her mind knew that she should protest, because no matter what happened next everything was going to change, and they’d never be Reece and Brent and Jenna again.
She knew that, but she didn’t care. Maybe she’d regret it later, but right then all she wanted was Reece. He’d filled her head and fired her body. She had to have him. She would have him.
And she’d deal with the fallout tomorrow.
Who’s Your Man of the Month?
When a group of fiercely determined friends realize their beloved hang-out is in danger of closing, they take matters into their own hands to bring back customers lost to a competing bar. Fighting fire with a heat of their own, they double down with the broad shoulders, six-pack abs, and bare chests of dozens of hot, local guys who they cajole, prod, and coerce into auditioning for a Man of the Month calendar.
But it’s not just the fate of the bar that’s at stake. Because as things heat up, each of the men meets his match in this sexy, flirty, and compelling binge-read romance series of twelve novels releasing every other week from New York Times bestselling author J. Kenner.
“With each novel featuring a favorite romance trope—beauty and the beast, billionaire bad boys, friends to lovers, second chance romance, secret baby, and more—this series hits the heart and soul of romance.” — New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips
AVAILABLE AT THE FOLLOWING RETAILERS ON JANUARY 16TH
MAN OF THE MONTH PAGE
J. Kenner (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal and #1 International bestselling author of over seventy novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres.
Known primarily for her award-winning and international bestselling erotic romances (including the Stark and Most Wanted series) that have reached as high as #2 on the New York Times bestseller list, JK has been praised by RT Bookclub for having “cornered the market on sinfully attractive, dominant antiheroes and the women who swoon for them.” A five time finalist for Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA award, JK took home the first RITA trophy awarded in the category of erotic romance for her novel, Claim Me (book 2 of her Stark Trilogy). Her books have sold over three million copies and are published in over twenty languages.
In her previous career as an attorney, JK worked as a clerk on the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, and practiced primarily civil, entertainment and First Amendment litigation in Los Angeles and Irvine, California, as well as in Austin, Texas. She currently lives in Central Texas, with her husband, two daughters, and two rather spastic cats.
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