Diana DeRicci

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ISBN: 978-1-60737-482-4
Author: Diana DeRicci
Cover Artist: Marci Gass
Price: $4.99

Deena is turning twenty-nine and her friend has given her the best gift, a free pass to Touch, a decadent luxury playground that caters to the rich and famous. Working endlessly to get her business off the ground, this break to play is exactly what she needed. The treatments aren’t half bad either.

Derek, the owner and controlling mastermind behind Touch, has ulterior motives though for getting Deena to Touch. Several months before, he’d discovered the knock-out blonde at a mutual friend’s wedding. Knowing she was dating, he tried to put her out of his mind, yet when her boyfriend leaves in a butcher’s rendition of chopped hearts, Derek lays out the ammunition to win her for himself.

All he needs is his secret weapon: Touch.

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Fictionwise!

Excerpt:

Sylvia held the large envelope in her fingers like a presenter at an awards show, enticing, teasing, and grinning because she knew the secretive act was killing Deena.

Deena frowned but couldn’t find the strength to put much effort into it. She was feeling pretty relaxed, a slight buzz and a sugar high roaming together like the best of friends through her system. “Syl, quit.”

“But it’s your birthday,” Sylvia sang in a high-low pitch, waving the light yellow envelope like a flag over her shoulder, out of reach but oh-so-apparently for Deena. A red velvet cake sat on the plain coffee table with two nice-sized slices cut out. Remnant crumbs on the plates were sitting forgotten now that the wine had been opened. It was a bought cake, which had irked Deena when Sylvia said she wasn’t allowed to bake her own. At least Sylvia hadn’t bought the red velvet cake from one of her competitors.

Playful jazz hummed from the stereo in the corner behind the sofa as the two women gabbed. Sylvia had ribbed Deena a little about working too hard, which was part of the reason Sylvia was at Deena’s. There hadn’t been many chances for girl time lately.

Deena’s wedding cake bakery was in high demand now that she’d hired Nicole Sparks, a specialty baker with an extraordinary talent out of New York’s best pastry school. By adding her delicious range of flavor to Deena’s design and decorating, the pair had become a “hot” commodity for those who could spend the kind of money on one of their cakes. Wedding cakes on that grandiose scale weren’t for the faint of heart. It was a mark of success that Deena had succeeded to this level of demand before she was thirty. And a blessing that all that art training hadn’t gone to waste.

In fact, today was her birthday and she was turning twenty-nine. The teasing light in Sylvia’s sparkling eyes was hard to miss while she held the envelope that was making Deena salivate with anticipation.

No one knew her better than Sylvia. No one bought her birthday cards anymore either.

“I love you, darlin’, but if you don’t hand it over, I’m going to do something dreadfully inappropriate,” Deena drawled in her “dare you” tone of voice the two women had shared since high school.

“Oh? Like what?”

“Hold you down and force-feed you a pound of fondant.”

Sylvia shuddered with a flutter of her eyelashes. “Can I get a guy to help with the spreading?”

Deena’s snicker turned into a laugh. “Evil woman.”

“Love you too.” Sylvia brought the card forward. “Here you go.” She whipped it out of Deena’s grasping reach at the last second. “You have to abide by the card. No cop outs.”

“Huh?” What was that supposed to mean?

“You’ll see.”

“What do you mean I’ll see?”

“We’ll celebrate not only your birthday but the fact that Brian the jerk has left the building.”

The joy dried out of Deena’s expression. “Brian is gone, and he is no longer worth my energy to remember.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.”

Deena snatched the card out of Sylvia’s hand at the same time she heard her friend’s mumbled “Bastard prick-in-the-mud.” She finally held the card in her hands and couldn’t care less what Sylvia thought or said about her ex-boyfriend. She and Brian had been together for not quite two years when he left in a fit of testosterone-fueled indignation just as her business began to really get off the ground. He hadn’t minded that she was career oriented; in fact, he’d always said it was one of the first things he’d found attractive about her. Apparently he had his limits though, namely when she was working all week then supporting her business at the actual functions to attract clients and interest on the weekends.

He’d accused her of neglect and of intentionally putting everything before their relationship, which hadn’t been true in the least. The final straw had been her Aunt Laura’s wedding. And that cake order had been family. It shouldn’t have mattered at all to their relationship.

The argument they’d had that night after the reception had been awful. She’d never seen it coming, which made the fight that much worse. Accusations had sliced her like ice shards in a violent wind. He’d been hateful, spiteful, and cruel. The things he’d said had shredded her, belittled her. For ignoring him. For taking too much time away from him. For not being there when he wanted or needed sex.

Looking back, Deena realized Brian had been the type who needed to be the center of the universe. The more her business prospered, the more threatened he’d felt. Deena had never been that dependent on any man other than her father.

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Excerpt:

Setting the clip to the side, he did as he’d said, starting with her temples and working in slow, sweeping circles down her neck to her body. She shivered and trembled, and he knew his heart thudded in answer, his eyes widening then drifting shut for just a moment of heavenly bliss at the feel of her beneath his hands. His reactions were telling, like having a bomb explode underneath each fingertip. Opening his eyes, he brought himself back to the dim room. Thankfully she was lying on the cushioned head brace, unable to see the predominantly physical one he couldn’t hide.

The contact of her hair in his hands made his skin sensitive. Silken and sinuous, under the dim lights the long strands, a rich caramel color with sun-streaked highlights, natural by the look of it, ran like water beneath his palms. He could still picture the beauty she had been at the wedding, standing to take photos with the cake she’d personally made for her aunt’s special day. A lovely, fitted, yellow dress had hugged her waist and moved like sunshine all around her. There hadn’t been a woman since to hold a candle to her.

Soon, he felt the flow of the motions energize his hands, and with an oil-slicked palm, he caressed her shoulders and back. He fought to calm his racing heart, his reaction to stroking the smooth expanse of flesh. Positive she was unaware to just how deeply she affected him, he allowed a brief moment to drown in the sensation. Slow breaths told him she was under his spell, absorbed in the feel and pressure as he kneaded muscle and skin into a new level of physical presence. It was the best and the worst kind of torture—to touch her, to finally be with her, but unsure if she felt the connective sparks. He swore he saw them racing from his fingertips up his arms to wind around the nerves beneath his skull.

Standing over her, his hands on the trim, sleek back before him, he envisioned bending over and licking a trail down her spine, stopping at the indent of her ass, a firm, well-shaped beauty he wanted to dig his teeth into. He knew from her client sheet she was five-seven, and if she was an ounce over one-thirty, he couldn’t see it. His hands continued to move in a hypnotic manner over her body. Sweet groans and barely audible gasps of release rose up to his ears as he worked his fingers into her spine.

“That is heavenly,” she slurred.

“Thank you.”

Replenishing his liquid ammunition, he moved beyond the bottom edge of the white towel, flipping it back on itself by an inch or two exposing the back of her toned thighs. She didn’t have to know that it was a liberty he was taking. She would love the outcome.

With firm hands, he massaged and rolled down her thighs, long and supple legs, all the way down to her feet. Then, one at a time, with the scented cream, he massaged her feet, easing his long fingers around them like a clay sculptor creating a masterpiece.

“You’re on your feet a lot?” he asked casually, molding his thumbs with a little more pressure into her arch, soothing the tender spots. He knew what she did. Sylvia hadn’t been able to withhold every detail under his questioning. Low groans were tearing his insides apart as he worked over each foot, counting cute, light pink polished toes.

“All day long usually,” she replied, sounding far away.

She was a hard worker. Another point proven. “This will help,” he explained.

When he was satisfied, he returned to her side, adding a fresh dollop of oil to his fingers to massage her thighs again. Her breath hitched but only briefly, her length virtually melting into the table, as he created more magic. He teased at her supple body, caressing tempting expanses of silken thigh. Starting at the back of her knee, he lightly kneaded, ending at the edge of the towel. Repeatedly working his attentions higher, feeling her body’s reaction, and catching his breath with every twitch of her growing arousal. She quivered beneath his fingers, but relaxed, almost in a trance of pleasure, both physical and erotic. Her fingers and toes arched and clenched as he moved over her body, joining in tandem with her slowly deepening moans.

At the moment, he didn’t care if she realized the sparking sensations were because of the attraction he couldn’t deny or because of her state of mind. At some point, this appointment had gone from proving if the undeniable physical pull created by this woman was real to needing so much more.

He drew a slow breath, heavy-lidded eyes following his hands, seeing nothing except her gorgeous body lying in front of him. Derek knew he was in over his head and about to break every rule in the book, but about thirty seconds ago, he’d ceased to care.

Excerpt: (Adult)

“Deena?”

“Hmm?” Languorous and drowsy, she barely answered him.

“Your choice of relaxation methods was one I’m not familiar with.” Drifting his hand between her relaxed thighs, closer to the pulsating heat of her mound still hidden beneath the safety of the towel, he almost died on the spot. Knowing what he should have expected, his blood raged with a renewed shock at the silken expanse of baby-soft smooth skin all along her thigh the higher he went. Was she bare? His mouth salivated, and he swallowed. Hard. Thank God he’d had the foresight to not put cameras in every massage room. “But I don’t want you to leave dissatisfied with our services.”

“Methods?” she mumbled, obviously trying to make the connection with a brain that was mush.

“Is this what you meant?” he asked, trying to even his voice out as he pressed delicately to the heat of her smooth flesh with an oiled palm. He slid the towel to her side, exposing her completely. The divine beauty of her body stole the last sane thought he had.

“Oh!” Shock made her voice stronger, but she was boneless on the table. He waited. Boneless was one thing. Feeling helpless was another. The oiled heat of her body was reaching up to him, wrapping around him like a fine scarf in winter. Over his nose and mouth, making him dizzy with need.

“Let me please you,” he managed over a thick tongue. A shudder rolled down her body.

“This isn’t a common offer, is it?” Her words were confused, trying to understand.

“No, Deena. This is for you, because you asked for the method.” Only a partial lie, a play on words that she herself had written. He was dying to feel her orgasm after having his hands all over her body for the last hour.

His eyes had almost fallen out of his head when he’d seen that one written word: orgasms. At first he believed he’d imagined it because he’d thought of little else when it came to Deena. It was a perfect opportunity, albeit a stolen one. He’d take it and run like a thief.

After a minute’s hesitation, she relaxed and actually spread her thighs for him, lifting her hips to press into his palm.

He didn’t ask twice, slowly working the oiled heat of his palm over her slit, feeling the way her body trembled and arched against his motions. He wished he could take her the way he’d craved since that fateful day all those months ago, but her ex had done a real number on her.

So much so that Sylvia had become extremely worried over her. Unable to wait for time to cure her heart, he’d made a deal with Sylvia to get Deena to the spa. He was going to do much more than heal her heart, given the chance. He was going to awaken her body.

He slid his palm over her pussy, and she moaned, the sound low and aching. He wanted her to turn over, to find her with his mouth, and devour her in all the ways he knew he could, but he wasn’t ready for her to see him yet. He didn’t want any connection made to him as one of the guests at Laura’s wedding, because that would too easily lead back to Rafael then Sylvia and the whole set up to get her to Touch. It was too possible for her to realize who he was, since she was at his spa, and he didn’t want to hurt her. He would tell her, but not now. It was too soon. He didn’t want his reputation and wealth to make the first impression. For now, he only wanted her to know him as André when she did finally see his face, to protect her if this was the only time he should have with her.

By the heat beneath his hands, he sincerely doubted he was imagining this. She’d find out about Derek Richards in due time. He wasn’t thrilled with the lie, but he wouldn’t risk hurting her if he was wrong about this attraction, if she didn’t feel the same, because he knew he wanted her. He felt on fire from just the hour they’d spent together already.

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