THIRST Page 21
Time stops.
My breathing stalls.
I stare at the two men in suits walking toward us.
One is blond with a beard and a blank look on his face as he takes in the dresses, veils and vases of flowers that decorate the space.
The other man is the one I can’t take my eyes off of.
His hair is dark, his eyes a shade of green I’ll never forget and the smile on his face could still light the night sky.
He slows as he nears me, his hand reaching up to touch his chest.
“Katie?” His voice rumbles through me as deeply as it did the first time I heard it.
I nod, my head moving as slow as time did when he left me days before our wedding with little explanation and a broken heart.
“Gage,” I say his name softly. “Gage Burke.”
Coming Soon
Preview of VERSUS
A Standalone Novel
I chose the woman I brought home with me last night for one reason and one reason only.
She looks like her.
It's the same with every woman I bring home with me.
They always look like her.
Light brown hair, sky blue eyes and a body that takes me to that place I crave. It's where I forget – her innocence, my cruelty, everything.
Last night was different.
This one didn't only look like her, she danced like her, spoke in a soft voice like her, and when she lost control on my sheets in that split second I live for, she made a sound that cracked my heart open. My heart; cold and jaded as it is, it felt a beat of something for this one.
She left before I woke up.
I need to forget about the woman from last night, just like I've forgotten every woman but the one who started me on this path to self-destruction.
I might have been able to if I wasn't standing in a crowded courtroom ready to take on the most important case of my career staring at the woman who crawled out of my arms just hours ago and into the role of opposing counsel.
I may be a high-profile lawyer, but her name is one I'd recognize anywhere.
The woman I screwed last night is the same one I screwed over in high school.
Court is now in session, and it's me versus her.
Chapter 1
Dylan
The world within Manhattan is its own beast. You learn that when you live here. When you claw your way around this city looking for something that’s elusive.
For some, that’s a job that will actually keep a roof over their heads.
For others, it’s a relationship that will stand the test of time and weather the winds of change.
I have the first and no interest in the second.
My needle in the haystack is a particular type of woman.
I don’t bother with blondes.
My cock has zero interest in redheads.
For me, it’s all about the type of woman I see in front of me now.
Petite, light brown hair, blue eyes and a body that can move to the beat of the music.
Experience has taught me that if a woman can dance, she can fuck.
The woman I’m watching now is graceful, beautiful and within the hour will be in my bed.
I slide off the bar stool and approach her.
“I’m Dylan.”
She taps her ear. “What was that?”
I lean in closer as she dances around me. “I’m Dylan, and you are?”
“Dancing.” She breathes on a small laugh. “It’s nice to meet you, Dylan.”
“You’ve been watching me.” I stand in place while the patrons of this club down around me, brushing against my expensive, imported suit.
She spins before she slows. “I could say the same for you.”
I look down at her face.
Jesus, she’s striking. Her eyes are a shade of blue, that particular shade of blue that always takes my breath away.
“We’re leaving together tonight.”
That cocks one of perfectly arched brows. “You’re assuming that not I’m leaving with someone else.”
“You’re here alone.” I spin when she does to catch her gaze again.
The skirt of her black dress picks up with the motion revealing a beautiful set of legs. “Maybe I like being alone.”
“Not tonight.” I reach for her hand.
She slows before she slides her palm against mine. “Dance with me, Dylan.”
I breathe out on a heavy sigh. I haven’t heard those four words in years. I haven’t danced in as long.
I pull her close to me, sliding my free hand down her back. “What’s your name?”
“Does it matter?” She looks up at me.
It never does.
I dance her closer to an alcove, a spot where the crowd is thin and the music quieter.
Her body follows mine instinctively, our shared movements drawing the admiring glances of others.
She’s letting me lead now, but the sureness of her steps promises aggression in bed.
“We’re wasting time. “
Her lips curve up into a smile. “Foreplay comes in many forms.”
“Is that what this is?” I laugh. “I want to fuck you.”
She presses every inch of her body against me. “You will.”
My cock swells with those words. “Now.”
“Patience, Dylan.” Her lips brush my jawline. “I promise this will be a night you’ll never forget.”
Coming Soon
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Deborah Bladon has never read a romance hero she didn't like. Her love for romance novels began when she was old enough to board the bus, library card in hand to check out the newest Harlequin paperbacks. She's a Canadian by heart, and by passport, but you can often spot her in New York City sipping a latte and looking for inspiration for her next story. Manhattan is definitely her second home.
She cherishes her family and believes that each day is a gift for writing, for reading, and for loving.