Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Every Second With You (No Regrets #2) by Lauren Blakely

Every Second With You = Sex. Love. Addiction. Heartache. Pain. And Hope.
In the sequel to the bestselling THE THRILL OF IT, Harley and Trey face new challenges that will make battling blackmail, sex addiction, and a virgin call girl past look easy…
I used to think love was a lie. Now I know it’s real, powerful, and I don’t want to lose it…But my future scares me, and there’s no way this can be happening, especially since I’ve finally broken free from all the people who wanted pieces of me. I don’t even know how to start over, but I have to find a way. So when I discover what my mother’s been keeping from me, it doesn’t make me hate her. It gives me hope for a new life, outside of New York. But the ties that bind me to this city are so strong, sometimes they are chains. If only I could leave with…
I will do anything for her. She owns me, heart, mind and body. But when Harley tells me this, I am rocked to the core, and terrified of what happens next. Especially when this time it’s not her past that chases me, it’s someone from my own. And that someone is messing with my head when I’m trying to be strong for Harley. But all I really want is to escape with the girl I love…For the rest of our lives.
How can you move forward when the past keeps chasing you?

“Let’s go inside,” I say, and a minute later we’re in my apartment and the door is shutting.
“So, how was your day? Did you see your parents?” she asks. She’s in a chatty mood again.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk. I just want you.” I fall into her again, the press of her body some kind of balm for my fearful heart. Because it’s working. It’s fucking working. The feel of her is an anesthetic. “I love you,” I murmur in her ear, as much to remind myself as to get her in the state I need her in. Because I want her blissed out, drunk from sex, too. We can get wasted together. “I love you so fucking much,” I say, and she moans softly from the words. I know her, I know this girl.She loves hearing it, she can’t get enough of it, and it turns her on to no end.
“I love you too,” she says, roping her arms around my neck, and her voice is so honest, so pure, that it nearly jolts me from the haze that’s coating my brain. But my body is taking over, and I want her, I want to fuck her, I want her to take me away from me. I want to escape in sex.
I pull apart, grab her hand and lead her to the tiny alcove of the kitchen. She raises an eyebrow. “Are we going to do it on the counter?”
I love the idea. I want to someday. But not today, because I’d have to look at her.
And I don’t want connection. I want contact.
Against the counter. You against the counter,” I whisper roughly in her ear, then lick my way from her earlobe down to the hollow of her throat, kissing her there where it makes her gasp and arch her back even while she’s standing.
“Okay,” she says and she sounds the tiniest bit nervous.

Are you asking me to move in to save money?”
I shake my head and laugh. “Seriously?”
She shrugs, but her cheeks start to flush, and she knows she asked a silly question.
“I’m asking you to move in with me because I’m ridiculously in love with you. And for the record, I was going to ask you before you told me you were pregnant. This is something I want for us.”
“Really? You were going to ask before?” Her lips start to curve up.
“Yes.” I trace her top lip, mapping the beginning of her smile with my fingertip. “So is that a yes?” This time I’m not going to freak out. I’m not going to shut down. I’m going to face up to the future like a man, and I’m going to be the man she needs.
She nods happily. “Yes. You are always a yes. End of the year let’s move in together.”
Then she kisses me, sealing our deal, and doing that thing she does to me with the slightest touch.
Turn me on.
She turns me on, always. Constantly. I groan as she nips my lips lightly, and then kisses me in a thoroughly sweet but intensely seductive way. She breaks the kiss to whisper in my ear. “You taste like a yummy sandwich.”
I laugh. “So do you.”
“I want more.”
“More sandwich or more me?”

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