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Anything But Vanilla By Madelynne Ellis — It’s Free!

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It’s my pleasure to welcome the fabulous Madelynne Ellis to The Story Behind the Story today. Madlynne’s going to tell us how Anything But Vanilla came to be, share a hot excerpt and offer a fabulous giveaway of a copy of her historical erotic novella, Capturing Cora, to one lucky commenter. Welcome, Madelynne!

Anything But Vanilla came about because I was asked to produce a novel proposal with a contemporary setting in which the action started right there on the first page. Anyone who is familiar with my work will know that while at least half of my output consists of books with contemporary settings my first love is historical novels. So, here was a challenge—how to get myself interested in writing another modern day book?

First of all, I needed an interesting setting. Office politics make me snore. I became a writer to avoid that rat race. I’m not much for secret clubs, and there’s absolutely nothing sexy about most of my daily chores, eg. the school run. I needed to find somewhere that spelled adventure to me. In the past, I’ve set contemporaries in, Egypt (Passion of Isis), a Scottish castle (Dark Designs), a tiny Yorkshire village (Enticement). While looking back over what I’d already done, I noticed they all have a common element. They’re all remote, isolated places. I needed another out of the way place to infuse with sensuality. An island seemed like the obvious choice, hence I began rekindling my love for St Michael’s Mount and Fort Clonque, which is an island off Alderney, in the Channel Islands.

As soon as I had the setting, an island linked to the mainland by a narrow causeway that flooded at high tide, the characters became clear. Naturally, the island had to have an owner (Bingo! Hero #1. Ric Liddell), and of course there’d be tourists, which meant there’d have to be an ice-cream seller (Hero #2. Zach Blackwater. Yes, I’d already decided it was going to be a ménage). That simply left the heroine. What was she doing on this lonely piece of rock in the English Channel?

Well… she absolutely wasn’t looking for love. Matter of fact, she was running away from a man who was demanding commitment from her. Straight away, I knew Kara North was a woman with a mission. She wasn’t going to be a damsel in distress. She was up for adventure. Liddell Island was going to give her the space to do all the naughty things she liked and dreamed of doing, without facing the constant censure of her family. Not that I wanted things to be too easy for her, which is why I dumped her right in the middle if an “established” if somewhat shaky relationship. The two men might be lovers at the start, but they’re experiencing problems largely because commitment phobic, Ric, doesn’t see why he should give up his poly-amorous lifestyle. I’m not letting on if he’s convinced to change his ways. You’ll have to read the book to find out what happens. (And at the moment you can do that for free as Anything But Vanilla is on promotion at Amazon and Barnes&Noble.)

ANYTHING BUT VANILLA

One girl. Two guys. No Strings…

Leave your inhibitions and prepare to be wicked, because on Liddell Island only the ice-cream is vanilla.

Kara North is on the run. Fleeing from her controlling fiancé and a wedding she never wanted, she accepts the chance offer of refuge on wild, rocky Liddell Island, where she soon catches the eye of the island’s owner, erotic photographer Ric Liddell. Wickedly sexy by day and just plain wicked by night, Ric rules his domain like a feudal lord. He’s used to getting what he wants, without any commitment, and just when Kara thinks she has him hooked, he hides behind a cool, dispassionate mask.

But pleasure comes in more than one flavour when Zachary Blackwater, the charming ice-cream vendor also takes an interest, and wants more than just a tumble in the surf. Zach offers her warmth that she never felt from her ex, and soon it’s not just the ice cream that’s melting.

When Kara learns that the two men have been unlikely lovers for years, she becomes obsessed with the idea of a threesome. Zach is reluctant, until he sees the dynamic effect Kara has on Ric’s emotions. She might be the key to finally capturing Ric’s heart.

Soon Kara is wondering how she ever considered binding herself to just one man. She’s never had so much fun or felt so uninhibited, but just when everything seems so perfect, the man she left behind returns with some very old-fashioned ideas about rescuing her and taking her home to his own idea of wedded bliss.

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Excerpt:

The kiss was by far the dirtiest she’d ever shared. The taste of her body clung to his lips, while the scent of her arousal flooded the air. Although shirtless, Ric remained otherwise properly dressed. Kara reached for his belt buckle, only for him to grin and step back. Still the ridge of his erection showed clearly behind his fly.

‘I thought you wanted to know where those keys are.’

‘They’re not in your pants?’

‘No,’ he grinned. ‘But let’s see if you can find them before I get fully into yours.’ He led her over to the bureau, not even giving her a moment to straighten out her clothes and bent her over the polished surface so that her face lay just shy of the myriad of little drawers set into the top. ‘They’re definitely in one of those. Shall we see if you can find them before I make you come again?’

He already had a head start, for one hand immediately wedged between her thighs, where it confidently stroked against her still swollen clit. Kara gave a desperate whimper. She couldn’t concentrate while he did that. Nor did she really care to find the keys right now. She wasn’t about to sacrifice this for a face full of biting cold wind and a night in her car wondering what could have been.

Ric’s breath tickled her ear. So too did his hair. ‘Ready?’

‘No, wait. What does the winner get? You’re not exactly convincing me that I want these keys.’

‘Bedding rights. One time, wherever, whenever.’ His breath tickled as it whispered past her ear. ‘And I don’t make this offer every day. Go.’

Kara reached out and tugged open the first of the drawers. Her current position didn’t allow her to see inside, so she had to rely on touch — paperclips, another one of those LED torches he had so many of, but no keys. She yanked open the second drawer without closing the first, just as she heard the slid of his zipper. The crackle of a foil wrapper immediately followed.

Damn, she wanted to crane her head and look at him, in order to know what his cock was like. She liked visuals, though she was pretty sure he was going to feel damn nice. Ric stood so close behind that even if she did turn she wouldn’t have gained a glimpse of him. Hell, if she moved a millimetre they’d be as intimate as it was possible to get.

Kara’s mouth fell open in anticipation. The second drawer remained unexplored.

‘You’re not looking,’ he prompted, still stroking her clit. ‘That’s kind of cheating, you know.’ The blunt tip of his thumb found her entrance and dipped inside a way. It came out wet. ‘Anywhere, anytime, anyhow, no matter who’s watching.’

Maybe, just maybe, she ought to try a little harder to win. God knows what sort of kinky hell he’d subject her to. Only she was way too interested in feeling his cock to focus on finding keys. Kara feigned interest in the drawer contents, waving her hand about inside the little wooden trough, but her attention remained focused on the nudge of his cock up against her sheath.

‘You’re very wet,’ he observed. The smack of his lips followed the comment, and she knew he lifted his thumb in order to taste her.

Suddenly, it was all too much. Kara pushed back against him, unable to keep still with him poised so close any longer. Instead of sliding home, his cock pressed hard against her bottom instead, almost testing her untried hole.

‘Steady now. Eagerness will get you everywhere.’ He lined them up properly then thrust inside her in one big push that knocked all the air from her lungs. When he drew back, it released her cry.

Sex oughtn’t to be allowed to feel this good, especially not the first time with someone. It made her behave like a perfect slut. She jiggled against him, bracing her palms flat against the desk. He seemed to fill her up right to her hopelessly sensitized clit. They rocked together hard, so that their joy was punctuated by the thump of the desk hitting the wall.

Kara’s pants turned to squeals. She couldn’t hold it in. She couldn’t keep how good it felt locked inside of her.

Ric’s teeth grazed the side of neck and the top of her shoulder, which only encouraged her to push back harder. She strained against him, loving the sensation of her back brushing against his tight abs and his long hair tickling her skin.

They were both coasting close to the edge when he slowed everything down and turned each thrust into a crazily sweet figure of eight. Her cunt clenched around him, desiring the hardness of their previous pace, yet loving how this slower roll seemed to sensitize the whole of her body. For a while they danced in perfect harmony. The graze of Ric’s teeth became the sort of deep kiss that marked. He sucked her up into him, possessing her fully. Then just as her body had begun to sink into a liquid and languid state, he switched things up again.

Ric fucked like a perfect mad man, his blond hair whipping them both while he filled her with perfect precision. Her heart rate doubled and heat filled Kara’s cheeks. The buzz in her clit started out small, just a little fizz that grew until it encompassed the whole of her pussy. She drowned in its power, gasping for air. For the first time ever, her second climax was so much greater than the first. It rolled on and on, pulsing inside of her and making her muscles clench tight around the glory of his cock. Normally, if a lover managed to wring a second orgasm from her, it was quiet, paltry little tremor. This was huge. It crackled through her synapses and almost knocked her out.

Boneless and dazed Kara peeled herself up off the surface of the desk. ‘Wow!’ Even that monosyllable didn’t convey the magnificence of the act. She leaned back against Ric in order to seek his kiss. His arms wrapped tight around her as they supped upon one another’s breath. He stayed inside of her too, his cock rigidly hard. It took a moment for her realize that he hadn’t come, that despite the mind-blowing peak he’d propelled her to, he hadn’t found satisfaction of his own. No wonder he lapped up her kisses like a man dying of thirst.

*****

 Don’t forget to leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of Madelynne’s hot historical erotic novella, Capturing Cora.

About Madelynne Ellis:

Madelynne Ellis is a multi-published British author of erotic romance. Her novels and short stories have been published by a variety of houses both in the UK and US, and have been translated into German, Spanish and Norwegian. She is best known for her Regency set novels for pioneering British erotica publisher Black Lace, but also enjoys writing contemporary and paranormal settings. Her aim is to deliver scorching, character-driven stories that enchant, torment and don’t shy from darker aspects of life.

Madelynne lives in the UK with her partner of 20 years, their two adorable children and a chocoholic rabbit. When not writing she enjoys live role-playing, solving puzzles and hanging out online.

Madelynne loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her by email at madelynne at madelynne-ellis dot com or find her at one of these hang outs.

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Surrogates, Garden Porn and Inspiration

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First of all, let me just do a little happy dance while I tell any of you out there who haven’t already heard me shouting about it (the ones who might have been in internet-deprived Outer Mongolia or just waking up from a coma) My new novella, Surrogates, is out! Rock on, garden porn! … er … should that be compost on, garden porn???

Garden porn! Ah yes, my favourite erotic topic. I’ve talked about the pleasure of getting my hands dirty before, and I’ve even discussed the many innovative uses for veg and garden implements. Surrogates is nothing if not creative with both. For those of you who don’t know what a dibber is, look it up, and I’m sure you can see where I’m heading – gently of course, gently!

My heroine, Francie Carter, is a master gardener who specialises in veg, or kitchen gardens, and she makes her living restoring walled kitchen gardens on large estates. You guessed it, Francie’s garden is a veg gardener’s wet dream come true. It’s a huge plot of postage stamp beds with grass paths in between. It comes with fruit trees, succulent beds of soft fruit, a large, heated, well-equipped greenhouse and  a state of the art staging area. All of that luscious yumminess is shielded and protected by a restored medieval wall. The garden Francie tends, on the estate of her kinky, neurotic lover, Daniel Alexander III, is my dream garden. Bet that comes as no surprise.

While I was writing Surrogates for Mischief Books and fantasising all the hot sex that would take place in the hot gardens, my husband and I were on the waiting list for an allotment. We had been on that waiting list for three long years and counting. Allotments, I figured, are about as close to a walled medieval garden on an opulent estate as I’m ever likely to get. Though, to be honest, after three years of waiting, I was beginning to wonder if my chances might be better with an opulent estate.

Just a week before Surrogates was released, we became the proud holders of a prime piece of allotment real estate, and suddenly our veg growing capacity went from whatever we could squeeze into our small back garden to a plot bigger than the whole property our house is on! Of course, like most allotments, the whole property is fenced in. Okay, it’s not a medieval stone wall, but it’s close enough for me. Though we don’t have a huge greenhouse like the one in which Francie partakes of some seriously hot sex with her two men, we have inherited a little blue garden shed, which I find very inspiring, indeed!

Unlike Francie, I’m no expert. I’m just a hobbyist, a hobbyist whose hobby suddenly got a whole lot more serious. My husband reckons we have about a half an acre! A half an acre, a little blue garden shed, a huge compost heap, and several kinds of mouth-watering soft fruit already planted. Be still my heart! It isn’t just that I’ll finally have space for lots of sweet corn and lots of peas, or that I’ll finally be able to put in that asparagus bed I’ve always dreamed of, but it’s the inspiration of it all. Even stories that are totally free of garden porn bubble up from the deep, filthy, romantic part of my unconscious when my hands are in the earth and I’m growing things to eat. A whole half acre of inspiration! AND a quirky blue garden shed. I shiver with anticipation!

And to celebrate the launch of Surrogates, here’s a steamy excerpt straight from the garden. Enjoy! (Be warned, this one’s a scorcher!)

Blurb:

DANIEL ALEXANDER III takes his marriage vows seriously. Until he gets the balls to ask his wife, BEL, for a divorce, watching each other masturbate is all he can offer his beautiful gardener, FRANCIE CARTER. But when Dan’s friend, SIMON PARIS, agrees to be his surrogate, affairs of the heart get complicated.

Excerpt:

‘Francie? Francie, are you there?’ Dan made his way around behind the jungle of runner beans, getting a shoe full of warm moist soil when he stepped off the path. As the grit infiltrated his dress socks, he would have cursed his clumsiness, but then he saw her on hands and knees, the swell of her hips slightly raised in her efforts to pull stubborn weeds. She didn’t have to do that. She was the head kitchen gardener, a goddess in her domain. He hired underlings to do the weeding, but fuck, he was glad she took the hands-on approach, especially at times like this. She had kicked off the silly blue plastic gardening clogs she always wore, and her bare toes curled into the soft earth as though the very touch of it was an irresistible pleasure. How could soil between toes be so goddamned sexy?

The thin summer skirt she wore barely covered the heart-shaped roundness of her bottom, hugging her and clinging in the heavy summer heat to the delicious juncture where her thighs met. There were clearly no panty lines. She gardened in skirts, like she wanted to expose herself, like the act of planting and digging and cultivating made her a naughty bitch, who couldn’t get enough. But then that was the way he saw her in his fantasies, and oh shit, did he have fantasies about her! His cock jerked with insistence that nearly took his breath away. ‘There you are,’ he breathed, fingers already fumbling at his fly.

‘Go away. I’m busy,’ she said, giving some unfortunate weed an angry tug, an act the made the thin skirt quiver, made the firm muscles of her buttocks beneath clench and release. And his balls surged sending a testosterone buzz clear to the crown of his head.

He ignored the anger in her voice, well he didn’t actually ignore it. Her saucy temper made his cock even harder. ‘It’s all right, darling, you keep on working. Just lift your skirt for me.’ He grunted softly as he released his cock into his hand.

‘Lift it yourself. I said I’m busy.’

‘You know I can’t do that, sweetheart.’

She growled something particularly feral under her breath. He figured it wasn’t fit for polite company, which made him wish all the more that he’d heard it.

‘I’ve got such a load for you. I’ll come all over it if you don’t lift it for me,’ he said.

‘I have other skirts, Daniel.’ She only called him Daniel when she was really angry. ‘Why do I care where you come?’

‘Because you know where I really want to come, darling, and you have to know how badly I want it.’ He moved slightly to one side, not so far that her magnificent bottom wasn’t the centre of his attention, but far enough that, in her peripheral vision, she might catch a glimpse of him stroking his cock. Even if she couldn’t, she knew what he was doing, and he had no intention of being quiet about it. He lifted his balls free from his boxers and groaned at the feel of himself so full, so heavy for her.

She gave another angry yank at the offending weeds, and the resulting squeeze of her buttocks nearly sent him over the edge.

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What Inspires Lily Harlem

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It’s my pleasure to welcome the luscious Lily Harlem to A Hopeful Romantic today to share with us some of her inspiration for her hot novel, Shared, and to talk about how she finds inspiration in general. Welcome, Lily! It’s great to have you.

Hi KD, and thanks so much for inviting me over today to chat about what inspires me to write my books. It has been an interesting topic to mull over before getting around to sitting down and writing this post. It’s really made me think about the everyday things that produce the seed of a story and then go on to feed and water it.

I find it easy to recall my inspiration for some books. For example, Shared, my debut novel at Ellora’s Cave, came about from flicking through the local newspaper. For some reason, and it wasn’t because I needed a place to live, I glanced through the letting section. I came across an advert – Room to Let – Wanted girl to share. Well, me being me, with my dirty mind, I thought, what if that is literal, what if, two hunky guys actually do want a girl to share? And that was all it took. The story grew from there, beginning with creating a situation where a girl, Ariane, would find herself homeless in Cardiff and on their doorstep, and then working out the reasons why these two hot, successful men needed to share a woman, why they couldn’t have one of their own? So for that novel, that was all it took – a line in a newspaper. I wonder what the person/people who placed that advert would think if they knew it had inspired such a racy ménage story, with a sequel!

I have a series called Hot Ice, all about the bad boys of ice hockey. Inspiration for these books is simple – I lust after hockey players! They are so damn big, so fast, sexy and talented. Phew! The sport is getting bigger and bigger in the UK and I follow the Cardiff Devils, they are every bit as hot as their US counterparts, they just don’t get as much attention; that suits me, I don’t have to share as much. However, having a hunky hero does not make a novel. I had to add in a heroine and of course a plot. For my first book in this series, Hired, that came in the form of one scene spinning around my head like a day dream. It was a gorgeous couple on a paradise island, the perfect beach and every luxury you can imagine, but there was a secret, a secret between them that hung like a black cloud over their relationship.

Eventually I decided the secret was that she was being paid to be there, not to have sex with him, but being paid to keep him company, yet, because they were now having sex, what would that make her? Once I had that idea all I had to do again, like Shared, was think up the situation that would have landed her and him, in this situation. Hired was great fun to write, and a character from that story, you’ve guessed it, another hot hockey player, goes on to be the hero in Cross-Checked the second book, and again, a player who has been a secondary character in both the first two novels goes on to be the star of Slap Shot, the third book. I am currently working on the fourth in this series, and have gone back to my roots and heading down the ménage route again.

I have also, recently, been writing with the hugely talented Natalie Dae. We already have one contracted novel due for release next year, That Filth Book, and decided to write another. The way we start a book together is a bit like the game you probably played as a kid, when you fold up a piece of paper, someone draws the head, it gets folded over, someone else adds the body, the legs and so on. Then, when we have a good grip on our characters and a rough idea of the plot, we take it in turns with each chapter, but the middle and the end is not set in stone, we let the story take us away, like a white-water ride down a fast flowing river, and see where we ends up. For our latest book, it was my turn to do the first chapter. I pondered for several days, knowing Natalie was waiting, and then when I was researching a blog post I came across this picture.

Slightly creepy perhaps? Not much to see but a lot for an over active imagination to ponder on, and my-oh-my – what a sexy shin. I can’t tell you much more about this book at the moment, except he is our hero, but I wanted to share the fact that from a single picture, 60,000 words of erotic romance can grow.

Another area of inspiration for me is music. Lyrics and tunes often are a background to the emotions of a character, even if I never write the lyric down, the sentiment, or the meaning behind it, can be a core part of my hero or heroines needs/focus. It helps me to keep coming back to what it is they really want, how they feel and what keeps them strong when everything goes wrong.

Recently Total-E-Bound asked me to write for their new Bollywood series. It worked out very well for me, because when the email came through I actually was in Asia. However, since I was having some quality time with the delectable Mr. Harlem (who by the way is a constant source of inspiration!) I didn’t start writing until I returned home. I had an idea in my head, a girl who secretly wrote a BDSM column for a guy’s magazine, I say secretly because she lives in Mumbai and this second job would not have been at all acceptable to her family. The story grew from there, but it wouldn’t have become nearly as vibrant if it wasn’t for the wonders of the internet and all the information I gleaned about Hindu weddings. Also it was further enhanced by my crit reader who loved certain parts of the story which I then expanded and worked on. The Unwholesome Adventures of Harita is just out at Total-E-Bound.

So I guess in summary, and I won’t subject you to the inspiration behind all my books, ideas for me, that very first spark, light-bulb moment, come from a variety of places. I can’t force an idea arrive, and it would be easy to panic and scream ‘writers’ block’ when one book is finished and the next is waiting to happen, but I know that either from a newspaper, a picture, a song, a day dream, or just a day to day life experience will be all it takes. Something simple usually, but with a whole lot of potential, that’s all it takes and then I am off, typing away, ignoring the housework, racing through life until I can get back to my characters and get their stories down.

Thanks so much for letting me natter on today, KD, and I hope your readers found my thoughts interesting. And if anyone wants to share where their inspiration comes from, I would love to hear it.

Blurb:

Struggling artist Ariane Arlington flees the Welsh valleys after exposing her corrupt boss. But when the sun rises she finds herself jobless and homeless in Cardiff city with barely a penny to her name.

She responds to an advert in the local paper—Room to let, wanted, girl to share. What she doesn’t realize is that the two insanely gorgeous guys who live in the penthouse apartment really do want a girl to share, in every sense of the word. Fortunately for Ariane, rent is the last thing on their minds.

She discovers the men are bound together by a turbulent past. Liam, a computer whiz, keeps a painful secret hidden beneath his buff exterior, whilst Quinn, a pioneering neurosurgeon, wonders if he’ll ever meet a woman who can live with his controlling ways. They admit the one thing missing from their lives is a woman just like Ariane, who can handle them both in and out of the bedroom and who, together, they can keep satisfied, loved and most of all, safe.

An Excerpt From SHARED

Suddenly I was there. I exploded and shouted out his name. My body jerked and my spine arched. Quinn wrapped his free hand around my shoulders, held me tight as he continued to drive into me, eking out every last tremor of my glorious release. I felt another surge of wetness as my internal muscles pumped around his wickedly expert hand, and then I was panting, desperate for air and looking up at his face silhouetted by the bright ceiling light.

He was staring at me, not smiling, just wide-eyed. “Stunning,” he said. “You’re so responsive, so delectably reactive I can hardly believe it.”

“It’s been quite a while,” I confessed, dragging in lungfuls of oxygen and becoming aware once more of my surroundings. The marble really was hard and very cold on my naked behind.

Suddenly another deep, male voice ricocheted around the kitchen and invaded our private moment. “Glad you two are getting on so well.”

I looked around Quinn’s shoulder at the kitchen doorway. Liam stood, arms folded, feet apart, as he surveyed us draped over the marble island he’d designed.

“Hey,” Quinn said, turning but making no move to take his fingers from inside me.

My heart leapt and I pushed frantically against him. Prickles of mortification swept through the very core of my being as I squirmed and finally rid myself of his invasion. slid ungracefully from the island and tugged up my jeans. I heard a whimper of embarrassment escape my lips, squeezed shut my eyes and prepared to take flight.

“Hey,” Quinn said, reaching for me. “Ariane.”

“No.” I shrugged him off and sidestepped.

But it was no good. He was too strong and too quick. He scooped me against his chest and bent his head to my ear. “Ariane,” he said again, curling his arms around me in a vise-like grip. “It’s okay, really.”

“I have to go.” I twisted my neck away from where Liam stood. My heart was threatening to burst right out of my chest. He would think I was a tart, a whore, a slut. I’d been giving off serious signals of interest to him only hours ago and now he’d come out of his office to discover me sprawled wantonly over his breakfast counter being hand-fucked by his flatmate. “I can’t stay, not now, please, let me go. I have to go.”

I pushed against Quinn with all my strength and shoved backward, but something caught me. Not something, someone. Liam. Suddenly I was trapped between two rock-hard chests and surrounded by four determined arms.

“Don’t go,” Liam said into my ear. “I’m not mad at you.” He spoke with such softness that instantly my eyes filled with emotion. “I want you to stay.”

“We want you to stay,” Quinn added.

I felt a drip of shame spill over my lower lid.

“Why are you sad?” Quinn asked, tipping my chin. “I thought I just made you fly.”

“You did, but…” I dropped my head into the palms of my hands. “But I’m so embarrassed, you’ve been so kind, so helpful and you don’t even know me, somewhere to stay, clothes, food.” A juddering sob broke free. “And I’ve repaid you by behaving like a whore.”

Liam sucked in a breath behind me. “Don’t you ever say that about yourself again, Ariane.” He spun me to face him instead of Quinn. “I won’t stand for it and neither will Quinn.”

“Absolutely not,” Quinn confirmed. “What you just did made us both very happy and we won’t have you corrupting it.”

My mind was reeling. What on earth were they on about? I had just made them ”both” very happy with my terrible display of sluttiness? “I behave like a loose-moraled tart and that makes you happy?” I asked, stunned, taking my hands from my shame-stained cheeks.

“If you say that again, or anything like that,” Quinn said in a decidedly dangerous growl by my ear, “I will put you over my knee and spank that sexy little ass of yours, Ariane.”

My mouth dropped open in shock as my body trembled at the kinky suggestion.

Liam took full advantage of my open mouth and suddenly he was kissing me, gently and slowly but with a harnessed passion that had me opening for more in spite of my confusing predicament. He cranked up the heat, our teeth touched briefly and then he delved his tongue into my mouth and began devouring me like a starving man. He tasted different to Quinn’s dark, chocolate heat. He was lighter, fresher, like he’d not long since brushed his teeth. But he was equally delicious, equally sexy, equally hot.

Quinn brushed my hair to one side and began to rain kisses onto the supersensitive part of my neck, just below my ear. I groaned in appreciation and curled my fingers into Liam’s t-shirt to hang on. Two pairs of hands began to roam my body, dipping into my waist, smoothing over my butt and thighs, reaching for my breasts.

Quinn’s erection prodded at the small of my back at the same time Liam’s hit my stomach.

I snapped my mouth away. What was I doing? What the hell was going on? My sudden movement caught them both off guard and I was able to slip free.

“No,” I said, retreating at speed. “I don’t know what’s going on here but no…how can you both…?

“Shh, it’s okay,” Liam said, taking a step toward me.

I backed away, throwing up my hands defensively. “No…” I said breathlessly. “I have to go.”

“But where?” Quinn said, shaking his head. “You can’t go back.”

“I don’t know,” I said, aware my voice sounded shaky.

A sudden manic beeping filled the kitchen. Loud and insistent it echoed like the shrill ring of a phone in an empty hall. “Shit,” Quinn muttered. “Worst timing ever.” He reached down to his pocket.

Liam raised his eyebrows at him. “Isn’t it always?”

“What, what’s that?” I asked as I pushed a damp strand of hair from my face.

“My pager,” Quinn said, narrowing his eyes at the small flashing screen. “I have to go.” He walked toward me. I backtracked and hit the kitchen wall. “Liam will deal with you,” he said through tight lips. “Anything he says goes for me too.” He looked across at Liam who’d folded his arms and tipped his head.

“I feel the same way he does,” Quinn said.

“But…”

“Don’t stop this,” Quinn interrupted. “Don’t stop this before it’s even begun, Ariane, please… I beg you.”

And then he was gone. His expensive leather shoes tapped over the wooden floor of the living room and then the front door slammed with a thud.

I wrung my hands together and rested my back against the wall. What had just happened? I’d kissed Liam with the same enthusiasm I had Quinn only moments before. How could I have generated so much passion inside my soul for one man and within seconds convert it to another? I’d always been faithful, I’d never cheated on Geraint, never even been tempted. Yet here I was getting mashed between two very aroused men and, I had to admit, enjoying it immensely. Thank goodness I’d come to my senses and stopped before anything else had happened.

“Ariane,” Liam said quietly, “you’re thinking about this way too much.”

I touched my fingertips to my lips, still tingling from where he’d just kissed me into oblivion. “What do you mean ‘this’?” I managed.

“Us, me and Quinn.” He paused. “And you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What’s not to understand?” He stepped closer. “I like you, Quinn’s clearly into you, and from what I just saw and felt—you, Ariane, are into both of us.”

There, he’d said it, the disastrous truth. I was into both of them. How could I not be? Both were devastatingly gorgeous and both had an air of irresistible sex appeal. It was a different nature of sexiness—whilst Liam’s felt gentle, seductive, beautiful and to a certain extent nurturing, there was something about Quinn that felt fast and furious, perhaps even dangerous. There was an element of bad boy unpredictability about him. How could a girl choose?

There was only one option—I would have to leave and not have either of them.

“I have to go,” I said again. “Really, I’m sorry, I can’t stay.”

“No.” Liam frowned, creating a neat horizontal line between his brows. “Leave in the morning if you want, but not in the dark, and…” He had a distinctly sharper edge to his tone. “Leave because you don’t want us, not because you do.”

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