Cover & Excerpt
Legacies Book Two
When Griffin Bennett returns home, two surprises await him … he has been named the sole heir to the family fortune and he finds himself undeniably in lust with his father’s grieving widow. Sexual attraction marked their beginning, but l–o–v–e could spell their end. What will it take to convince her reluctant heart?
Griffin Bennett returns to his childhood home unprepared. Despite his long absence, he learns he has been named the sole heir to the fortunes of two venerated Bostonian families. Possibly even more disturbing is his reaction to his father’s widow, a stunning woman whose mere presence provokes vivid images of sex in wildflower meadows.
Lillian Gustave Milton Bennett has always enjoyed men, even marrying a select few. But when circumstances conspire to keep her in the family home with her deceased husband’s estranged son, a mutual sexual attraction becomes an unwelcome complication. She resists, but it becomes clear the most efficient way to exorcise the man, and his odd effect, from her psyche is to sleep with him.
Griffin is well aware Lillian wants nothing more than to work him out of her system, but in a few short weeks his feelings for her have grown from the primitive to the sublime. Realizing her next husband awaits, Griffin struggles to make her understand. But for Lillian, love is an excess, an unnecessary construct, and Griffin’s heartfelt declarations are not enough to make her stay.
Genre: Contemporary RomancePurchase link(s): LSB Amazon ARe Kobo B&N
Release Date: April 27, 2015
Publisher: Liquid Silver Books
Excerpt & More
She started up the back stairs to the bedrooms. A glance at her watch told her she had just under an hour to get ready. She increased her pace before lifting her gaze. When she did look up, she was confronted by a wall of white. Startled, she caught the toe of her shoe under the lip of a tread and pitched forward. Her hands shot out instinctually and she braced for an unpleasant impact, but instead of unforgiving hardwood, her palms met with the springing mass of a well-muscled body.
“What the … Lillian!” Griffin halted her lurching forward motion with firm hands on her ribcage, lifting her off her feet and pulling her tight.
He twisted with the force of their combined movements, grunting as his back collided with the stairwell wall. She felt the convulsive flex of his muscles as he fought for balance on the narrow step. For a few moments, the only sound was his ragged breathing.
“Jesus. Are you all right?”
The thrum of her pulse in her ears made it difficult to hear him. Her heart pounded in her chest. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. And none of it had anything to do with her near-tumble up the stairs.
“Yes.” The breathy affirmation mortified her.
“Look at me.”
She tried to push away, regain her own footing before she faced him, but his arms constricted around her. Left with no other choice, she schooled her features into the cool mask she had perfected over the years and lifted her head. His intent scrutiny set her on edge, tension building in her shoulders.
Long seconds passed as they considered one another. The twitch of his lips drew her gaze. At his warning smile, she braced herself, but his kiss never came. Instead, he skated his hands over her back. Lillian froze.
His pupils dilated the instant his fingers bumped over the clasp of her bra, leaving only thin silvery blue bands around the two black discs. She closed her eyes against the obvious sign of his arousal. Relentless, he continued his examination, smoothing his hands down her body. He explored, teasing at the valley between her cheeks and running his palms over the swells of her bottom. She knew full well what he sought, but doubted he would be able to discern the outline of the barely there thong she wore despite the fine silk of her dress. You’re not going to find what you want that way.
As if reading her thoughts, he tugged her closer until his fingertips met her hem and then, with a deft twist of his wrist, his hands were on her bare skin. He tortured her sensitive outer thighs with his warm touch as he made his way up her legs toward his goal. He hooked his thumbs under the gossamer band hugging her hips, trailing its length until his hands met at the apex at the base of her spine. Rotating his palms, he retraced the path until his fingers fanned her navel. His thumbs crossed beneath the front triangle of her panties, breathtakingly close to the upper edge of the finely trimmed hair it cloaked.
“Open your eyes.” She did as she was told, defiance impossible.
His smug satisfaction made her want to strike out at him, but she could not so easily disregard the fact she had indulged his ridiculous mandate. It had never been her intention. When he’d left her in the study, she’d dismissed the entire incident as an anomaly. A strange spell had overcome them, likely wrought from the unrelenting sexual tension which had plagued them since the moment they’d met.
More difficult to explain had been her foray into a lingerie boutique on Newbury Street the next day. Harder still, the numerous purchases she’d made. And what became practically impossible to justify was she had selected and worn a set of the fine panties and bras she’d brought home with her—every day since.
She rationalized her “choice” as a rebuke. It turned out dressing appropriately, as he’d so haughtily termed it, allowed for the unexpected slip of silk between the cheeks of her bottom or the tantalizing rasp of lace over her breasts, and proved far more provocative than going bare. Unfortunately, it also brought to mind the man who had made wearing them a reckless act beyond her control.
She never meant for him to know and stared at him, exposed and vulnerable, as he slid his hands out from under her dress. He tugged the material into place, smoothing it over her before territorially cupping her bottom.
“Good girl,” he told her quietly.
Dark desire twisted low in her abdomen. She clutched at his shirtfront, her knees giving way. He was going to make her come, there on the stairs, with little more than humbling caresses and taunting words.
His mouth came down on hers, swallowing her shuddering exhalation. The power of his unrestrained passion drove reason from her mind. With his lips and tongue, he demanded everything from her and, defenses obliterated, she gave it.
Hollowness bloomed in her chest, an aching, growing emptiness. She strained into him, chasing what he took from her. She realized, short of occupying the same space, she would never be able to get close enough. It was as if he held part of her captive, a piece she hadn’t known existed but desperately wanted returned.
He shifted his embrace subtly, holding her away from him and lifting his head. Desolate at the sudden, unexpected loss, she went up on her toes searching. She opened her eyes to find him looking at her with a strange determination.
“What? Tell you what?”
“Tell me you want me.”
She blinked several times, reason coming back in a cold surge. Horrified at how quickly and deeply he had drawn her into madness, she could find nothing to say.
“Oh, that’s too bad.” His smile had a bitter twist. “I already know, Lillian. It’s coming off you in waves.” He lowered his head to her neck and sniffed. “Fucking intoxicating waves,” he whispered against her skin. “But I need to hear you say it.”
As he spoke, he disentangled himself from her, bringing his hands to her shoulders then running them down the backs of her arms before letting them trail away from her elbows. He looked down between them and she followed his gaze, realizing she still had hold of his shirtfront. She uncurled her fingers and lowered her hands to his forearms before feeling steady enough to take a step back.
She wrapped her arms around herself before looking up at him. His handsome features warped by frustration and hard determination, he leaned in, his breath hot on her cheek.
“As much as I enjoy watching you torture yourself, we both know what I would find if I slid my hand between your thighs.” Her hands tightened around her upper arms at the provocative image, nails biting into the soft under skin. “Just like we both know how much you want me to do it.” A little sound of denial escaped her, making him chuckle humorlessly. “That makes three. I’m getting tired of you lying to me.”
She opened her mouth, a heated retort on her tongue.
“Don’t,” he warned.
Without another word, he turned and descended the stairs. He disappeared into the kitchen without a backward glance, leaving Lillian alone and wretched.
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