Searching For, #3
By Jennifer Probst
Release Date May 26, 2015
Genevieve MacKenzie has her life completely under control. About to wed the charming Chief doctor at the local hospital, she’s an up-and-coming surgeon with everything she could ever want. Until an escape through the church window on the day of her wedding sends her life into a tailspin…and flings her right into her best friend’s arms.
When Wolfe catches his best friend falling out a window on her wedding day, he doesn’t ask questions. He whisks her away, determined to watch over her and discover the truth behind her desperate escape. But when his feelings turn more than platonic, he realizes he may risk his most important relationship in order to protect his damaged heart, and the woman he loves.
Can Genevieve and Wolfe’s friendship turn into something deeper—or is it already too late for true love?
“Too bad. I was hoping for some awesome sex secret. Like telling me you really are into dominatrix stuff.”
“Sex again, huh?”
“Must be the alcohol.” She finished up the fifth or sixth beer, and enjoyed the heat coursing through her veins. The fake happiness would soon turn to depression, but she didn’t care for now. It had been so long she let go of control and did something reckless.
“David said I sucked at sex.” This time, he rolled over. Those stinging blue eyes pierced into hers and his jaw tightened.
“David was an asshole and that’s why you left. You don’t suck at sex.” The giggles overtook her.
“How do you know? We never had sex. I probably do. I’m too in my head, always waiting to see if I’m good enough until faking orgasms became my art.”
Fury laced his words. “Let me repeat. He was an asshole, and lousy in bed if he had you faking orgasms. He messed with your head, babe. Don’t let him get in.”
She waved a hand in the air and tried not to giggle again. Oh yeah, she was drunk. It wasn’t so funny before, but now it seemed kind of lame not to be able to rock the bedroom with your fiancé. “S’okay. I’m not the sexy type, you know? I’m vanilla. Boring. Heeven said my kissing was like missionary sex every night. But I know he didn’t mean to hurt my feelings. He was just saying it to make me better, so I got some books, but it still didn’t really work.” His teeth clenched. She was fascinated by the naked rage flickering over his face, the way he held his body tight like he was about to explode like some badass superhero. “I’m going to kill him.”
She almost laughed, but then he looked a bit too serious. Gen frowned and reached out. She got lucky and hit vision number one, which was real and not the duplicate dancing in front of her. Her fingers stroked his stubbled jaw in an effort to soothe his temper. Damn, she used to be able to knock back five beers in a night. Maybe because she had nothing in her stomach and it had been a hell of a day. Why did he look so mad again? Oh yeah, because she sucked at kissing and he was gonna kill David. “Not his fault. He never wanted to hurt me, told me that all the time. I kinda made him do it by not listening.”
“You really believe this shit, Gen?”
“It’ll be okay. I’ll get a vibrator or something, or maybe take lessons. Kate’s mom is a sex therapist, you know. Maybe she can help.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed tight. “I’m gonna rip him apart piece by piece. You are good at sex. You are good at kissing. Are you listening?”
She nodded hard. Ooooh, cool. Three faces now. He was so nice to look at, she could stare at him all day. So much better than evil Kermits. “Uh-huh. You’re a good friend. My fault though. You don’t know how bad I am at it.”
“Fuck.” The vicious curse emitted from his sexy mouth. His warm breath hit her cheek. She hated when he got pissy. “You better remember this tomorrow.”
Suddenly, he loomed over her, pressing her back into the ground, his hips cradling hers. Oh wow. His body heat scorched through wet clothes and her bare legs automatically opened in a primeval urge to surrender. He planted both hands on either side of her head and lowered his mouth. What was he doing? His delicious scent rose to her nostrils, and her hands found their way to grip his hips, his damp skin sleek and muscled beneath her touch. Another curse escaped. He seemed grumpy and torn as he stared at her, inches away from her mouth, and Gen blinked a few times because his head kind of floated around, and her body screamed for more contact, please, just a bit more, and then he muttered, “I’m gonna prove you’re good at this kissing thing, okay?” and his mouth took hers.
She whimpered, literally whimpered, at the amazing feel of those ultrasoft, smooth lips coasting over hers with an expert grace and blistering heat that made her toes curl. Oh, alcoholic visions were so yummy! Wolfe, her best friend and and confidant, was kissing her, and it was too good to be real, so it had to be some sort of psychedelic mirage from too much Sam Adams.
Her mind spun, tried to make sense of it, and gave up. Her body roared forward and seized control. Hips arched, nails digging into his lower back, she surrendered to the sensations rocketing in her core and spreading like fire through her veins. He kissed her for a while, until she was a soft, gooey mess beneath him, and then his tongue parted her lips and surged in. She opened her mouth and met him halfway, crazed for the full taste and essence of him. His tongue pushed, stroked, and explored, taking her deep. She moaned and reached for more. God she wanted more, the taste of citrusy lemon and male hunger pulling her under. He grew hard between her thighs and she nipped at his bottom lip, sucking gently, and he muttered something foul, deflowering her mouth like she was a virgin asking to be ravished and taken and fucked. Time stood still. It was too short, it was endless, it was everything. Her head spun, her breasts grew achy and tight, and she was so wet he could’ve slipped between her thighs and slid home without a protest. She made a sound deep in her throat when he slowly pulled away, the wet slide of his tongue over hers bestowing one final taste.
She blinked. Blistering heat and fury and lust mingled in those blue eyes. She felt eaten alive, scoured raw, and Gen shook as the solid foundation underneath her shifted and broke open. “Are you listening, Gen?” She couldn’t speak, so she managed a nod. “You’re an amazing kisser. I could’ve fucked you right here and now and been the happiest guy in the world. A guy has to be dead not to want you. David is a piece of shit. Understood?” She swallowed. Nodded again. “Good.” He slid off her and she almost cried out at the loss of his heat and pressure. The sky opened and swallowed her up as utter exhaustion suddenly hit her. Turned on, spent, emotions ripped and bleeding, she grabbed for his hand not to lose physical contact, and he interwove his fingers with hers and lay back on the dock. Slowly, she relaxed, his presence a bone-deep comfort and something else, something she refused to examine.
Gen gave up and let the blackness take her. But first she said the words. “I love you, Wolfe.” She slid toward sleep. His response drifted in the sultry air among the chirp of crickets. “I love you too, babe.”
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Jennifer Probst wrote her first book at twelve years old. She bound it in a folder, read it to her classmates, and hasn’t stopped writing since. She took a short hiatus to get married, get pregnant, buy a house, get pregnant again, pursue a master’s in English Literature, and rescue two shelter dogs. Now she is writing again.
She makes her home in Upstate New York with the whole crew. Her sons keep her active, stressed, joyous, and sad her house will never be truly clean.
She is the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of sexy and erotic contemporary romance. She was thrilled her book, The Marriage Bargain, was ranked #6 on Amazon's Best Books for 2012. She loves hearing from readers. Visit her website for updates on new releases and her street team at www.jenniferprobst.com.
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