At the request of several very lovely readers, I am posting a tiny tease from my upcoming release, Their Luscious Dream, which is the second Love in Luscious, Kansas book. I hope you enjoy the sneak peak. But please, oh please, be gentle. This is a completely unedited snippet!
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As soon as her too-fucking-tall stilettos touched the porch landing, Athena wobbled. But Sam was there, as was Ethan and Brett, and the three of them had her in the biggest, strongest sets of arms she'd ever felt before she fell.
Mortified, Athena's face flamed. Still, she managed, “S—s—orry. These shoes, uh, hate me.”
“Well then, I hate them,” Brett announced before sweeping her off her feet and carrying her through the front door. He stalked through the living room and into the kitchen without slowing. Then he gently deposited her on the countertop. “Let’s get these little bastards off you.”
Athena grinned. Only a man like Brett would think of shoes as ‘little bastards.’
Brett dropped down and inspected the heinous heels from hell. “Why would you wear these, anyway, sweetness? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you look”—he paused as though lost for words and ran his scrumptious brown eyes from the tips of her stilettos up to the top of her head—“like a million bucks. But they don’t look user friendly.”
Athena snickered. “User friendly?”
Sam swaggered into the room hand-in-hand with Ethan. “That’s his way of saying they’re a walking death trap,” he explained.
Reaching for her shoe, Brett removed the first one slowly, methodically. Though, his eyes weren’t on what he was doing. No, his gaze was riveted on her bare legs—her freshly shaved, bare legs. She'd have to thank Haven for that later.
“They are a walking death trap,” Brett murmured casually as he moved to her second shoe. Like the one before, he rid her of the offending heel at a snail’s pace, his actions painstaking and precise. “Frankly, I don’t get the whole woman shoe fetish.”
“You wouldn’t,” Ethan said. “You think ripping designer clothes is appropriate, too.”
Sam groaned. “Not this again.”
Holding her shoes in one hand, Brett got to his feet. “It’s not me. It’s Ethan.”
Athena bit her lip to quell her amusement at their endearing bickering.
Ethan released Sam's hand and sauntered straight toward his hulking, dark-haired husband. “I'm not the one doing all that ripping.”
Images of clothes ripping and hard, naked, male bodies flashed in front of Athena's eyes. Immediately, her amusement turned to lust, and she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth to keep from saying all the dirty things that came to mind.
Brett stood his ground. “Yeah well, you shouldn't look so damn good in your”— pausing, he air quoted with one hand—“designer clothes.”
Ethan kept going toward Brett, who towered over him, but he didn't seem the least bit intimidated. “Yeah well, I wouldn't wear them if I didn't look good in them.”
“Yeah well, you shouldn't wear them then.”
Ethan's eyes flared as he neared Brett. “I am not getting rid of my clothes.”
As Ethan reached him, Brett leaned forward and pressed his upper body to Ethan’s. “Fine, I'll get rid of them for you.”
“Boys!” Sam jumped between Brett and Ethan like a super-sexy referee minus the not-so-sexy uniform.
“Behave. We don’t want to scare Athena.”
Scare me? Ha! “Don't mind me. I was enjoying the show.”
Ethan, Brett, and Sam all rounded on her. She felt stalked, and they hadn't moved. They hadn't even spoken. By some miracle, she found the brain power to shrug. “What? A girl enjoys two men going at it.”
“That was not them going at it,” Sam said, his voice droll. “But if you want...”
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