Book Three of The Executive Decisions Trilogy
By Grace Marshall
Successful NYC gallery owner, Stacie Emerson, is ex-fiancée to one Thorne brother and ex-wife to the other. Though the three have made peace, Ellison Thorne’s friend, wildlife photographer, Harris Walker, still doesn’t like her. When Stacie convinces Harris to exhibit his work for the opening of her new gallery she never intended to include him in her other more hazardous plans. But when those plans draw the attention of dangerous business tycoon, Terrance Jamison, Harris comes to her aid. In the shadow of a threat only Stacie understands, can she dare let Harris into her life and make room for love?
She let out a little gasp, lost her footing and her forward momentum pulled him off balance too. They rolled ass over elbows down a grassy hill, her enormous bag whopping him up the side of the head before the strap broke and the bag gained speed and rolled on ahead of them. She gave up trying not to laugh and totally ignored his efforts to shush her.
The harder he shushed, the harder she laughed until they came to an abrupt stop in a patch of high grass on the edge of a rhododendron thicket. She landed on top of him, forcing the breath from his lungs with a heavy hmph. It was dark, he couldn’t see well and she was still laughing helplessly. On top of him! He reached to cover her mouth with his hand, but instead he found his fingers in a tangle of her soft hair and felt her breath on his mouth and there was nothing for it. It was hopeless and he knew it. He fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her mouth down to his, inhaling her laughter as his ability to breathe came back, inhaling her little gasp of surprise, inhaling his name forced between her lips, startled, surprised, but not in an unpleasant way. Not in an unpleasant way at all.
Her hands found their way to his hair, using it to pull his face closer to hers, nipping at his beard with her teeth as her mouth took on any challenge his could offer, full and hard and soft and inquisitive, teasing and sweet all at the same time.
His hands were on auto pilot as they strayed down her spine and slid back into the waistband of her trousers, back to the mounded pillows of her buttocks. A sharp little sight caught in her throat, and she wriggled her bottom against him. He rolled until he was on top of her and kneed her legs apart. With awkward yanks and tugs, he opened her fly. Her hips jerked and she caught her breath in a little moan as he slid his hand down over soft pubic curls, anxious for what lay beneath.
‘Harris … Harris, touch me there,’ she managed, biting her lip and shifting to accommodate as he wriggled his fingers down. With her hand on top of his, she guided him to open her, to stroke the soft warm wet of her, to feel the grip of her. And when he found the place where it was warmest, tightest, softest, she trembled and practically cried out loud. ‘There, oh yes. There. That’s the place. That’s it.’
The ease with which she told him what she wanted made him blush into the darkness even as it made his cock jerk in his jeans. With his free hand he grabbed her trousers and tugged them down until he could see the shape of her, the rise and fall of her, the tremors low in her belly.
Though he couldn’t imagine how he’d had the higher brain function to manage it, he unzipped one of her boots and tugged it off, allowing her to free one leg from her trousers while she worked on his fly, releasing his erection into the grope and tug of her strong hands, which he slapped away to keep from coming too soon. ‘Why Mr Walker,’ she half giggled. ‘I’d have never figured you for a commando man.’
‘World’s full of surprises,’ he said, slapping her hand away again. ‘The condom, it’s in my wallet.’ He tried to grab it from his back pocket, but this time she slapped his hand away, pulled the wallet free, found the condom and tossed the rest on the grass. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he should be worried that their things were scattered all over the great outdoors in the middle of the night, but then she eased the condom onto him, rose above him and mounted him, sliding down so tight and so warm that any other thought that didn’t involve him being inside Stacie Emerson went straight out of his head.
And then they were rolling, tumbling, scrabbling in the grass like two wrestlers. Him thrusting, her shoving, him feeling grass in his ass crack before she rode him down hard onto the cool earth, and he no longer cared. She ripped open his shirt to kiss and bite his nipples while he struggled awkwardly to return the favour, finding her bra a fortress to be assaulted until she reached behind her and undid it with a single flex of her fingers. Then she shoved up her top until he could feel her breasts against his chest, rising and falling and pressing hard with each laboured breath, vying for the space they shared up close and personal. In the tense darkness that practically crackled with the night’s excitement, it couldn’t last long, no matter how much he wanted it to. It was the heat of the moment. It was the fire at the core. It was the outrageous sensuality of the woman, of her laughter, of her ability to joke in the face of what could have been a disaster and turn it into … well outrageous sex.
She came seconds before he did, and her spasms of release brought him. Neither of them came quietly. Harris didn’t know he could make so much noise during sex. And when they both lay back in the grass laughing nervously and struggling for breath, it occurred to him that any efforts he had made earlier to stay quiet and unnoticed had surely been negated by their lovemaking. ‘Well, I guess if the cops are gonna find us, they’ll find us,’ he said. ‘But it was worth the risk.’
About Grace Marshall:
Grace Marshall lives in South England with her husband and the growing gang of hooligan birds who frequent their feeders. When Grace isn’t busy writing something sexy and romantic, she’s busy digging in her ever-expanding veg garden or walking across the British countryside. She finds inspiration outdoors in nature, and most of her best story ideas come to her while she’s walking or gardening.
Grace is the author of the fast paced, quirky Executive Decisions Trilogy published by Xcite Romance. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis and the final instalment of the trilogy, The Exhibition, are all now available at all your favourite book sellers with lots of romance and thrills served hot.
Grace Marshall’s alter-ego, K D Grace writes critically acclaimed, best-selling erotic romance. Whether it’s sexy romance or romantic sex, between The Graces, there’s a story for you.
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