Anyway, I've been holding back, but it's Sunday and I think the time has come to share a kiss from this novel.
After you've read my snog, don't forget to check out the other sexy kisses over at Victoria's place!
One sexy French chef. One kinky American TV producer. One ambitious Chinese gal who thinks she wants them both. The ingredients of bliss? Or a recipe for disaster?
Accomplished cook Mei Lee “Emily” Wong knows exactly what she wants—her own show on the Tastes of France food channel. But life is full of complications. First, her deceptively nerdy producer, Harry Sanborne, initiates Emily into the delights of submission. Then her boss, legendary chef Etienne Duvalier, begs her to dominate him. Emily just can’t resist—especially when Harry orders her to explore her inner mistress. Suave and sexy Etienne will do whatever she asks—in the bedroom if not in the kitchen. And Harry, her lovingly diabolical Dom, adores pushing Emily’s limits.
When the network sends the trio to France to shoot a series of cooking shows on location, Emily knows her career is on the upswing. Her plans fall apart in Marseille as a Hong Kong drug syndicate kidnaps both Etienne and Harry. The Iron Hammer Triad mistakes Etienne for notorious gangster Jean Le Requin, who has stolen their drug shipment, worth millions. Emily realizes she must find the real Le Requin, retrieve the purloined dope, and bargain it for Harry’s and Etienne’s lives. The secret she’s been keeping from Harry might prove useful. Still, what chance does one woman whose knife skills are limited to chopping vegetables, have against the ruthless cruelty of two criminal organizations?
And now the snog...
And now the snog...
“Emily?” Harry’s voice boomed through the corridors, as if in answer to my thoughts.
“In here. In Dantès cell.”
Harry had to duck to get through the low doorway. “Ah. I should have figured I’d find you in a dungeon.” He smelled of sunscreen, sweat and musk. Like Pavlov’s dog, I started to get wet in response to the familiar stimulus.
I fought my rising need. “Hi, Harry. I was just about the head back…”
Before I could stop him, he’d clasped me to his chest. “I missed you, love.” He buried his nose in my wind-tousled hair, breathing deep then nibbled my ear. “You smell delicious.”
I tried to untangle myself from his arms. “I need a shower.” My laugh sounded hollow.
“That’s why you smell so good. No, actually that’s not true. You always smell good. One whiff of your magic scent and I’m hard as a rock.”
He wasn’t lying. His erection prodded my belly as he ran his hands over my curves and burrowed into the crook of my neck.
“Too bad there aren’t any iron rings or bars. You’d look so fetching, shackled to the dungeon wall.”
“Harry, come one. Be serious!” Once more I struggled against his embrace, without success. He only held me tighter. He was far stronger than I. My stomach did a dizzy little flip at this realization. “They’re probably waiting for us…”
He left off his nuzzling and gazed into my eyes. In the dim cell, his were full of shadows. “Let them wait. And I am serious, Emily. I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
I couldn’t avoid the kiss. Honestly, I didn’t want to. His mouth sealed itself to mine and his tongue forced my lips apart, claiming me. Lust roared through me, unleashed by the ferocity of his oral conquest. I tasted the sugary residue of his soft drink, the mint of his toothpaste, residual garlic and herbs from the ratatouille. His assertive male odor surrounded me, the essence of pure sex. I opened to him and let him take me. I had no choice.
He didn’t fondle my breasts or pinch my bottom or insinuate his fingers into my drenched knickers. He did nothing but kiss me, pouring every ounce of feeling into that mouth-to-mouth connection. Without the slightest stimulation, aside from his taste and smell, the firmness of his lips and the probing of his tongue, I found myself trembling on the verge of climax. Irresistible power flowed from him, overwhelming me. Helpless, lost and grateful, I let myself go.
He understood what he was doing to me. He felt my last resistance crumble. My plans, my qualms, my logic all came to nothing when faced with the intensity of his desire. And as I surrendered, the kiss changed.
Now he sipped at my mouth rather than swallowing me whole. His tongue feathered over my lips, coaxing me to let him enter. He breathed into me, warm and sweet, gentle as drifting clouds on a spring day. Holding me close, so close I could feel the heartbeat under his sweat-damp shirt, he bathed me in his devotion.
My sex still tingled and sparked, but now some other sensation swelled in my chest, a rare joy that seemed on the edge of triggering both laughter and tears.
“I love you, Emily.” His voice was rough velvet, his lips moist against my cheek. “More than I can ever say. More than I know what to do with.”
Tell him, my rational self whimpered, weaker by the instant. Tell him you’re leaving, before it’s too late.
I raised my face to his and offered him my mouth, and the truth.
“I love you, too.”