The Rule Maker by Jennifer Blackwood releases on January 16th!
Read a STEAMY EXCERPT of this highly anticipated follow up to The Rule Book! NOW ONLY $0.99!
Read a STEAMY EXCERPT of this highly anticipated follow up to The Rule Book! NOW ONLY $0.99!
He eased me back into the snow, and his hands were in my hair, running along my cheeks, gripping the back of my neck, and the tight grasp I’d had on reality slipped through my fingers like smoke. We’d danced around our attraction, using words as ammunition, and now that neither one of us was talking, we could finally hear one another.
I need you, my body screamed.
I’ll give you anything, everything, his body responded, pressing against mine.
Cold seeped into my clothes, and a shiver ripped through me. He pulled away and wrapped his arms around me, tugging me out of the snow, cradling me between his knees. “Can I take you inside?”
“Yes.”
Without a word, he stood, picked me up, and held me to his chest. His mouth was on me again, on my neck, nipping, sucking.
“The guys should be coming back any minute from lunch,” I said, remembering where we were.
“Do you promise to be quiet?”
There was a logical answer to that. I’m sure there was. But all my mind could come up with was Must. Have. Now. I nodded.
In the span of three long breaths, Ryder had me inside the lodge and backed me through the door of the old storeroom at the far end of the resort. He pressed me up against the bookshelf, palming my breasts, his mouth devouring mine.
My mind went blissfully blank as he pulled my hoodie and my shirt over my head and continued feverishly kissing his way across my chest.
“I’ve been thinking about you for months, Zoey. I couldn’t get you off my mind.” Another kiss to the valley between my breasts. “One time was not enough.”
The desperation in his voice had a direct line to the space between my thighs. One more time would never be enough.
His fingers dug into my hips as he ground into me, and I groaned as his erection pressed against my stomach.
More. Needed more. Faster.
I pulled his shirt over his head, and the fabric gave way to hardened muscle, ink splayed across his chest, down his arms. His breath hissed through clenched teeth as my fingers traced over each groove of muscle. This man, always so sure, so damn cocky, fell apart under my touch. His eyes squeezed shut, lashes feathering across his cheek.
“Zoey,” he said, my name a plea.
I spiraled, cast out to sea, so far that I couldn’t spot the shoreline anymore.
He brushed a strand of hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear, his palm cupping my cheek. His thick, calloused fingers caressed my skin, and I whimpered, leaning into his touch, and slipped farther out to sea, each wave of need shattering reality.
His lips worked from my neck down to my stomach and stopped at the button of my jeans. I looked down at him, on his knees, his worshiping eyes dilated as they devoured me inch by inch.
“You okay with this?”
“Yes.” But then remembered he’d just gotten out of his cast. “Wait, what about your leg?”
“Flash, not even a broken leg is going to get in the way of me tasting you.”
Well, then. Who was I to argue with the man?
He unfastened the button and pulled my jeans to the floor. I hastily stepped out of them, and his hands returned, cupping my ass, trailing down the inside of my thighs, my ankles. His lips started at my knee and worked along the muscle of my leg until his mouth hit the edge of my panties.
My head knocked into a shelf as he moved the lace to the side and his tongue met the aching space between my thighs. Sparks exploded behind my eyes as I writhed against his touch. His thumbs dug into my hips, stilling me against the bookcase.
His tongue continued at a relentless, maddening pace. Heat spread from my core, scorching everything in its path as I floated on the edge. Only one lick stood between me and complete obliteration.
I need you, my body screamed.
I’ll give you anything, everything, his body responded, pressing against mine.
Cold seeped into my clothes, and a shiver ripped through me. He pulled away and wrapped his arms around me, tugging me out of the snow, cradling me between his knees. “Can I take you inside?”
“Yes.”
Without a word, he stood, picked me up, and held me to his chest. His mouth was on me again, on my neck, nipping, sucking.
“The guys should be coming back any minute from lunch,” I said, remembering where we were.
“Do you promise to be quiet?”
There was a logical answer to that. I’m sure there was. But all my mind could come up with was Must. Have. Now. I nodded.
In the span of three long breaths, Ryder had me inside the lodge and backed me through the door of the old storeroom at the far end of the resort. He pressed me up against the bookshelf, palming my breasts, his mouth devouring mine.
My mind went blissfully blank as he pulled my hoodie and my shirt over my head and continued feverishly kissing his way across my chest.
“I’ve been thinking about you for months, Zoey. I couldn’t get you off my mind.” Another kiss to the valley between my breasts. “One time was not enough.”
The desperation in his voice had a direct line to the space between my thighs. One more time would never be enough.
His fingers dug into my hips as he ground into me, and I groaned as his erection pressed against my stomach.
More. Needed more. Faster.
I pulled his shirt over his head, and the fabric gave way to hardened muscle, ink splayed across his chest, down his arms. His breath hissed through clenched teeth as my fingers traced over each groove of muscle. This man, always so sure, so damn cocky, fell apart under my touch. His eyes squeezed shut, lashes feathering across his cheek.
“Zoey,” he said, my name a plea.
I spiraled, cast out to sea, so far that I couldn’t spot the shoreline anymore.
He brushed a strand of hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear, his palm cupping my cheek. His thick, calloused fingers caressed my skin, and I whimpered, leaning into his touch, and slipped farther out to sea, each wave of need shattering reality.
His lips worked from my neck down to my stomach and stopped at the button of my jeans. I looked down at him, on his knees, his worshiping eyes dilated as they devoured me inch by inch.
“You okay with this?”
“Yes.” But then remembered he’d just gotten out of his cast. “Wait, what about your leg?”
“Flash, not even a broken leg is going to get in the way of me tasting you.”
Well, then. Who was I to argue with the man?
He unfastened the button and pulled my jeans to the floor. I hastily stepped out of them, and his hands returned, cupping my ass, trailing down the inside of my thighs, my ankles. His lips started at my knee and worked along the muscle of my leg until his mouth hit the edge of my panties.
My head knocked into a shelf as he moved the lace to the side and his tongue met the aching space between my thighs. Sparks exploded behind my eyes as I writhed against his touch. His thumbs dug into my hips, stilling me against the bookcase.
His tongue continued at a relentless, maddening pace. Heat spread from my core, scorching everything in its path as I floated on the edge. Only one lick stood between me and complete obliteration.
✰✰✰✰✰✰
About this book
Ten Steps to Surviving a New Job:
1. Don’t sleep with the client. It’ll get you fired. (Sounds easy enough.)
2. Don’t blink when new client turns out to be former one-night stand.
3. Don’t call same client a jerk for never texting you back.
4. Don’t believe client when he says he really, really wanted to call.
5. Remember, the client is always right—so you can’t junk punch him when he demands new design after new design.
6. Ignore accelerated heartbeat every time sexy client walks into room.
7. Definitely ignore client’s large hands. They just mean he wears big gloves.
8. Don’t let client’s charm wear you down. Be strong.
9. Whatever you do, don’t fall for the client. You’ll lose more than your job—maybe even your heart.
10. If all else fails, see rule number one again.
Ten Steps to Surviving a New Job:
1. Don’t sleep with the client. It’ll get you fired. (Sounds easy enough.)
2. Don’t blink when new client turns out to be former one-night stand.
3. Don’t call same client a jerk for never texting you back.
4. Don’t believe client when he says he really, really wanted to call.
5. Remember, the client is always right—so you can’t junk punch him when he demands new design after new design.
6. Ignore accelerated heartbeat every time sexy client walks into room.
7. Definitely ignore client’s large hands. They just mean he wears big gloves.
8. Don’t let client’s charm wear you down. Be strong.
9. Whatever you do, don’t fall for the client. You’ll lose more than your job—maybe even your heart.
10. If all else fails, see rule number one again.
The Rule Book (Book One) is NOW ONLY $0.99
Starr Media Second-Assistant Survival Guide
1. Don't call your hot boss the antichrist to his face.
2. Don't stare at hot boss's, um, package or his full sleeve of tattoos.
(No. Really. Stop!)
3. Don't get on the malicious first assistant's bad side.
4. Don't forget to memorize the 300-page employee manual.
5. If you value your cashmere, steer clear of boss’s dog.
6. Boss’s dimples are lust-inducing. Do. Not. Give. In.
7. “The elevator ate your clothes” is not a valid excuse for showing up to important meetings half dressed.
8. Don't break seven of the rules within the first week of employment if you, ya know, are in dire need of money to support your sick mom.
9. Whatever you do, don’t fall for the boss. See rule eight about sick mom.
10. Never forget the rules.
1. Don't call your hot boss the antichrist to his face.
2. Don't stare at hot boss's, um, package or his full sleeve of tattoos.
(No. Really. Stop!)
3. Don't get on the malicious first assistant's bad side.
4. Don't forget to memorize the 300-page employee manual.
5. If you value your cashmere, steer clear of boss’s dog.
6. Boss’s dimples are lust-inducing. Do. Not. Give. In.
7. “The elevator ate your clothes” is not a valid excuse for showing up to important meetings half dressed.
8. Don't break seven of the rules within the first week of employment if you, ya know, are in dire need of money to support your sick mom.
9. Whatever you do, don’t fall for the boss. See rule eight about sick mom.
10. Never forget the rules.
