Lea Franczak of USA Today gave SLOW RIDE HOME a “recommended read” in her review, so did Lace at BlackRaven’s Reviews. Terri at Night Owl Reviews gave it a 5-star Top Pick review while over at Guilty Pleasures Slick Reads agreed and called it a True Gem.
Slow Ride Home
© 2013 Leah Braemel
The thirty minutes he’d aimed for turned out to be two hours, even though he’d busted ass to get through the chores. Ben released the breath he’d been holding when he saw her waiting on the porch, wearing one of his old tees like a dress, and beneath the shirt a pair of his silk boxers some girlfriend or other had given him and actually expected him to wear.
“Hey, you.” She uncurled from the chair she’d been sitting in. “I was about to start the party without you.” He let his gaze wander the length of her thighs, over her trim knees and calves and down to her bare feet, her nails painted in a shimmery gold. While he loved her fuck-me high heels, Allie’s bare feet were downright sexy.
After her earlier flip-flopping about their relationship or whatever it was, he’d decided she was thinking too much. He’d also decided he needed to keep her concentrating so hard on something else she didn’t have time to think. Only thing he could think of to distract her was…well, sex. It always distracted him from his worries.
A woman wanted romance, he figured, rather than the wham-bamming he’d given her the last two times. Tonight he’d take it slow, make it all about her. With a few twists just to keep her mind occupied on what he was doing. He reached behind his seat and pulled out a new hank of rope. He didn’t plan to use it but figured it would keep her mind working on what and when he’d tie her up while he slowly romanced her.
“I thought I told you to be naked when I got home.”
Her eyes widened. “You did not.”
“Then I’m tellin’ you now.” With a casualness he didn’t feel, Ben ambled toward the porch. “You’d better not be wearing a stitch by the time I reach you.”
“Or I’ll tie you up and spank you.”
Her gaze darted to the rope he’d hooked over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Keep those clothes on and you’ll find out.”
Sweet baby Jesus, he just about swallowed his tongue when she grasped the bottom of his tee and pulled it over her head, then shimmied out of the silk briefs and stepped out of the whole bundle.
He damned near tripped over his own feet when she folded her arms beneath her breasts, the action pressing the luscious globes together. The plans to gently romance her tonight went up in a puff of smoke, replaced with a caveman-like need to get her on her hands and knees and mount her like a stallion. “Inside. Upstairs. On my bed. Now.”
“Wow, you’re in full Me Tarzan, You Jane mode, aren’t you?”
He opened the front door and pointed. “Inside. Upstairs. On my bed. Now.” He couldn’t help that his voice had lowered or that he sounded like he’d sucked a day’s worth of smoke. Right now words were the last thing he could formulate.
“You’d better not be planning on sleeping ever again if I’m nearby, cowboy. Because you’ll wake up naked and hogtied. On your front lawn.” Lifting her chin, she strutted through the door and up the stairs.
On the landing near the top of the stairs, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled archly at him standing at the bottom of the stairs, struggling to take off his boots. “I still think you’re bluffing about tying me up.”
“I’m not bluffing.” He had been bluffing but now he couldn’t get the image out of his brain. Her, with her hands tied behind her back, kneeling in front of him, sucking on his dick. Or on her back with her hands and feet bound to the bedposts, leaving her spread open for whatever he wanted. What the hell had happened to slow and easy romancin’? “Last warning, darlin’. If you’re not on my bed when I reach the bedroom, I will tie you up.”
“Promises, promises.” Her laugh echoing off the stairwell, she disappeared up the last three steps and out of sight.
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