Mr. Insatiable by Serenity Woods
Gossip says he is hot between the sheets. Has Mr. Insatiable finally met his match?
I’m not a missionary position, lights out kind of guy.” – Kit
Enya’s been curious about Kit’s bedroom exploits ever since his ex-girlfriend spilled the beans about his…skill. But he’s not for her. Enya can’t provide what he wants from life, especially not between the sheets.
After Enya admits she’s not good at sex, Kit persuades her to trust in him. Together, they can create fireworks in the bedroom. A few drinks followed by a discussion about kinky sex, and Enya succumbs to his charm.
Thrilled he’s been proven correct, Kit can’t keep his hands off Enya, and she’s unable, and unwilling, to resist him. But is it just great sex…or something more?
CONTENT WARNING: Sexy, sizzling hot romance. Please read with air conditioning on.
- Digital ISBN: 978-1-61650-435-9
- Genre: Romance / Contemporary
- Length: 54,000 words
- Ebook Page Count: 202
- Publication Date: February 4, 2013
- Available Format: Digital
- Available soon
All rights reserved, Lyrical Press, Inc.
Enya wondered how often you had to want sex to make you ‘insatiable’. Once a day? More than that? And for the love of God, why would you complain if you hooked up with someone like Kit Fawkes and he wanted sex every day? Enya would have hung out flags if she’d been in the same predicament.
Up close like this, the scar on his forehead gained when he fell off his bike at sixteen was visible. A hint of stubble already shadowed his chin, even though he’d shaved that morning. His irises were a light, sky blue, the same color as her bridesmaid’s dress.
“I dreamed about you a few weeks ago,” she said softly.
His lips curved. “Oh? X-rated, was it?”
“Absolutely. Every position you could name.”
He laughed. “Was I good?”
She opened her mouth to give a sarcastic reply, but the words fell away as her gaze fell to his lips. “We were somewhere hot, the Northland, I think, during the height of the summer. We were walking under the lemon trees, and you…kissed me.” Her gaze moved back up to his as she remembered the way he’d lowered his head in the dream, brushing her lips with his.
He studied her. “Hmm.” His eyes showed curiosity mingled with something else, something she couldn’t fathom. Her cheeks grew warm.
“Then the lemons turned into footballs and Lady Gaga appeared and asked me to dance with her,” she said lightly, wondering what had possessed her to tell him about the kiss.
He reached out and touched the back of his fingers to her cheek. “I haven’t seen you blush in ages.”
His hand lingered, and a shiver ran down her spine from nape to tailbone. Even now, weeks later, she remembered snapping awake from the dream, confused by the powerful thump of her heart.
He was Tristan’s best mate, and from the moment they’d all met when her family had moved to New Zealand, she’d thought of him as another older brother, even though she’d always been aware of how gorgeous he was. He’d fulfilled the filial role with aplomb, teasing her relentlessly, putting cockroaches in her shoes, hiding her lunchbox at school, typical brotherly torment. But as the years had gone by and she’d watched him work his way through a succession of girlfriends, she’d begun to wonder exactly what it would be like to be the lover of someone like Kit Fawkes. She’d never felt as comfortable with any of her past boyfriends as she felt with him. But then wasn’t that the problem? Maybe things would have gone better with Andy if she’d felt as at ease with him as she did with Kit.
“Do you think it’s weird?” she asked.
He dropped his hand. “What?”
“That we’ve never kissed? I mean, out of our social circle, everyone’s dated everyone else at some stage. Except you and me. Why do you think that is?”
“I’m ugly. I presumed you didn’t want to go to bed with the Hunchback of Notre Dame.”
She smiled. All their life they’d flirted, joked, kidded around. He didn’t think she was serious, and of course, she wasn’t. Was she? Her gaze slid to his lips again. What would it be like to kiss him? Would it feel as if she were kissing Tristan, sister to brother? Or would it heat her up from the inside, as it had in the dream?
Concern flickered on his face now. “Come on,” he said. “Spit it out, O’Donnell. You’ve never talked about kissing me before. What’s on your mind?”