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10 Ways To Steal Your Lover

 
  • Publisher: Self-Published
  • Series: Love By Numbers: Book One
  • Release Date: Dec 15, 2011
  • Genre: Contemporary Erotic
  • Available Formats: eBook Only

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His best friend's wedding just turned into the craziest hangover ever...

Kane Wilkensen’s buddy was about to marry the girl of Kane’s dreams. Which would have been fine—heartbreaking but fine—if Kane hadn’t woken up in a Las Vegas honeymoon suite with her, a giant sack of money and a great big blank spot in both their memories first…

He’d always thought a good man would never steal his best friend’s lover, but one crazy night may be just the chance Kane needs to show his ‘wife’ that she’s with the right husband after all…


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Reviews

Maldivian Book Reviews

4.5 Stars!

“For fans of contemporary romances with heat levels that is guaranteed to spike up your internal thermometer, Dee Tenorio’s 10 Ways To Steal Your Lover would be a treat for the senses. With a beautiful epilogue tucked in at the end, I loved everything about this novel and cannot recommend this highly enough!”

—MDV, Maldivian Book Reviews

 


Grade: A

“If you are looking for a fun easy read that will have your pages burning up and you rooting for true love then you won’t want to miss this story.”

—Heather, Book Reading Gals

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Excerpt


Copyright © 2011 Dee Tenorio

“Again.”

The sex-laden voice, rough and demanding, roused Delilah from sleep. Without opening her eyes, a smile—already well-satisfied—curved her lips. Her head gave a dull ache but it was lost in the wash of sensation as strong, firm hands took control of her hips, lifting her up onto legs still shaky from the last loving. She rubbed her face against the pillow, almost embarrassed by the rush of heat and need that arrowed down to the open folds of her sex. Folds that even now grew plumper, slicker, beneath the intensity of a gaze she could feel like a stroke of his tongue.

She wanted that tongue. Again. Feeling wanton, almost powerful, she stirred her hips for him slowly waving from left to right and back again.

His grip tightened, but he did nothing to stop her. “I’ve waited years to look at you just like this.”

She almost laughed. She’d never had a problem with his looking, but Craig almost never wanted her positioned like this anymore. The last month or so, he’d barely even touched her…

Delilah frowned, her fuzzy brain trying to remember something, something important. She stared down at her hands, her fingers knotted in the sheets, focusing on the rings on her finger. Not the silver band Craig had given her six months ago. Not the pale sapphire he d said matched her eyes. Instead a clear diamond, marquis-shaped, bound by gleaming gold and a matching smooth band next to it, resting where Craig’s ring should have been. She blinked at it, confused how it got there, when the heat of his open mouth came down on the highest curve of her unturned ass. Synapses fired like the fountains outside their hotel and the thought was gone.

She lifted higher for him, crying into the pillow with a voice gone half-hoarse. He ate at her flesh, licking and suckling hard enough to leave a mark and send her nerve endings into paroxysms. Up over her hip, along the sensitive nip of her waist, along the indent of her spine as one hand reached beneath her and cupped her aching breast. She jerked against his mouth, shocked at her own unexpected reaction, torn between feeling too much and wanting even more.

It’s never been like this before…

She’d been with Craig for three years, but not once in all that time had he devoured her like this. Had he set her on on fire like this. Though she’d always crushed the stray, not-quite-sated thoughts from her head, this time she couldn’t get over how every part of her body felt at this moment. Alive. Tingling. As if he’d spent the entire night wringing pleasure from every single inch of her and still wanted more. Made her want more. Why now? Because they’d finally gotten married last night?

Wait, wait a second, the ceremony had been set for morning—so why did she remember stars overhead? A gazebo? What the hell…

Blunt fingertips dragged over one side of her ass, obliterating her questions and leaving fading furrows in her skin heading inexorably for her sex. She moaned as he repositioned her knees on top of some pillows. Utterly lost in the feel of those callused hands moving over her, stroking the pouting lips up one side and down the other. Slowly. Teasingly. Parting them to dip inside, drawing the moisture he found into mind-bending circles around her opening… She arched higher, desperate to deepen the stroke for him.

Which only made him laugh.

Right before he sank two fingers deep into her.

Delilah shuddered, her legs nearly giving out in relief, her internal muscles rippling around his surging touch. Again and again he pumped his fingers, taking the relief and heightening her need with it until she felt like mass of desperation.

“So close already,” he crooned, laying his hard body over her so he could rumble in her ear. She blinked, his voice sending flickers of recognition through her. Craig’s body wasn’t soft, but it wasn’t the hot, rippling steel flexing against her bare back. His fingers delved again, stroking her once, twice, before pulling out and leaving her empty, but not for long.

Even as she moaned, he began to push inside her. Thick flesh, hot and rigid, moved through her folds with a carefulness that belied his earlier aggression. She took him in smoothly, her body already familiar with the feel of him.

She pushed back against him, so deliciously full of him she couldn’t manage a deep breath. Panting, she closed her eyes, torn between the screaming passion threatening to burn her up or pushing past the cottony blocks of her memory. He seemed to understand the precipice she balanced on, remaining perfectly still, perfectly buried within her.

If only it could stay like this forever. She didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to break this sensual spell. Didn’t want to open her eyes and realize that the man behind her wasn’t her fiancé.

Or that she didn’t care.

Delilah cried out, lifting her head. The only truth that mattered right now was how much she needed him. Powerful thighs flexed against her own as he began to move. He reached for her, pulling her up, against his chest, his hands clasping her breasts, mouth open on the back of her neck. He drew hard, pumping up into her relentlessly, meeting her rocking motion back to him. Her head fell back on his shoulder, her own hands latching over his. Their fingers wove together, their bodies moving as if they’d been lovers for years.

As if they’d been made for each other.

She opened her eyes, heavy though the lids were, when she felt him staring at her with that smoldering green gaze. A gaze that had always followed her, always made her feel like everyone around her could see the lies she told herself and everyone else to get through each day. That stare cut her open every time it caressed her face, demanding her honesty though the man himself never once uttered a word to ensure she gave it. In three years, that gaze never failed to make her cheeks flame and her body tingle in ways it shouldn’t.

It didn’t do any good to avoid him now, she already knew who he was.

Kane Wilkensen.

The best man at her wedding.

***

Kane stared into Delilah’s passion-laden blue eyes and felt that tightening in his chest again. The one he always felt when she managed to meet his stare. The soft weight of her breasts filled his hands as they had in so many other fantasies, the taut pink tips slotted between their twined fingers waiting to be teased. Even better, the wet glove of her pussy squeezed his cock with every roll of her hips, her ass sliding against his belly like hot silk. He pistoned into her, over and over, each deep thrust wetter, tighter, flat-out fucking better than the last.

As wet dreams went, this one had to be the best and he’d had years of them to compare to. He could actually taste her this time, smell her and the musky heat of sex in the air. Her hair even fell over his shoulder to tickle his back. He had it bad for those inky black tresses that always seemed to catch light that wasn’t even in the room and gleam back at him.

Each bit of her was something he wanted to look at, study and apply to memory for all time. He wanted to see his cock driving in and out between the smooth lips of her pussy. Wanted to watch his hands plucking the candy-colored nipples until she begged him to lick them, suck them. He wanted to see if there was a mirror anywhere that would allow him to see all the angles while he fucked her into screaming oblivion.

But he couldn’t tear himself from that steady, gem-colored gaze.

Her mouth opened, just a little, as she gasped with each thrust.

Her hand rose, sliding over his jaw, running through the bristles of his morning beard.  She held him like that; a gentle, loving touch amidst the raw fucking he couldn’t begin to slow down. It didn’t fit somehow, despite feeling utterly amazing. As if she really were there, no matter how impossible that was. Apart from her marrying Craig, his dreams of her were never gentle. They were fervent, unrestrained to the point of being damn near desperate. Only here was he free to take her over and over, never worrying about hurting her or scaring her with his overt sexuality. Never having to see that glint of attraction in her eyes get snuffed out by dismissal.

He slowed his thrusts, confused, until she whimpered, her nails adding bite to that gentle caress. “No, God, don’t stop.”

Like he could. His cock felt like it was about to burst already. But something wasn’t quite right…

“Please, Kane… Harder. I’m so close…” She closed her eyes, turning her face away and arching for a deeper penetration.

He groaned at the sensation, but confused or not, he wasn’t going to let her turn from him again. He left her breast to cup her chin, turning it back his way. “Look at me, Delilah,” he ground out, when her eyes widened in surprise. “Watch me while I make you come.”

He didn’t wait for her to agree, mating their mouths together with almost primal force, pushing his tongue into her mouth to gorge on the taste of her. She groaned into him, returning the marauding with strokes of her own. He sat back onto his heels, bringing her with him until the kiss broke, but she kept those sleepy eyes fixed on his face as he’d commanded. His hands coursed down hers, over every inch of that creamy skin until he fit them over the curves of her hips. Her hands came down on his outer thighs, desperate for a balance he wouldn’t allow her. He commanded her rise and descent on him, a fact that gave him a kind of brutal satisfaction.

“Kane, please,” she whispered.

That was all it took to snap his control.

Lifting her until only the very tip of him nestled at her opening, he thrust his hips upward, slamming home. She cried out, a gasp so excited he could feel the pleasure of it against his skin. Followed quickly by a second and a third. Each push had her tightening, her cream flowing steadily down his length while her hands stretched out wildly for purchase. He helped her find his forearms, which she gripped so tight all he could feel was her pulling him up for more.

“Kane, yes, yes,” she said, bouncing against his hold as best she could, her voice rising until she was simply gasping his name over and over. Giving in, he pounded into her without thought or mercy, his body jackhammering while her cries turned into a keening scream and her pussy rippled around him, milking his cock relentlessly. Finally, fucking finally, the pressure within him burst and he yanked her down to grind into her as deep as he could reach, joining her orgasm, almost as if it were his own. She clenched around him, her ass still moving against him, lighting stars in the back of his head and leaving him wrung out like an old rag.

Well, that wasn’t new. Delilah had been making him see stars since he met her. KO’d, down for the count.

What was new, though, was that the dream wasn’t over.

Usually, when he came in these dreams he woke up still thrusting into ruined sheets, his face pressed into a pillow.

This time, he was most assuredly still balls deep inside Deliliah McGavin, his face pressed into the mass of silken black hair now that they’d fallen to their sides on a bed far too nice to be his. Like him, she was gasping, trying to catch her breath. She was also bonelessly limp, her sweat slick body slathered over his, their legs tangled, their sexes still throbbing against each other, fitted together like a lock and a key.

“Delilah?” he asked after a few more silent seconds passed and he still didn’t wake up.

“Mmmm?” More of a purr than a reply.

“This isn’t a dream, is it?”

He thought she might have stiffened, but her body didn’t have the energy to hold it. Instead, long seconds later, she sighed, turning her head to look up at him with an altogether too hard to decipher shadow in her eyes.

He knew the answer before her kiss-swollen lips pursed to form the word, but he held his breath anyway. Waiting for himself to be wrong.

Please, God, let him be wrong.

“No.”

Shit.

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