What happens when a perfectly civilized sexual arrangement turns into a minefield of turbulent emotion?
Wealthy widow Hettie Miller misses her dead husband terribly, but is still beset by a gnawing physical desire. Lonely and confused, she turns to Starr, her late husband’s personal assistant, who discreetly supplies an after dark solution. At night, he comes to her bed and thrills her with intense, breath-taking sex, even though by day, their employer/employee relationship is scrupulously formal and hands off.
But Starr loves Hettie. He’s loved her since the first time he ever met her, but until now, he’s always managed to conceal it beneath a mask of immaculate manners and rigidly controlled reserve.
During a summer getaway at her secluded country mansion, it finally dawns on Hettie that her feelings for Starr are far more than simply carnal, and the parameters of their relationship start to change…
Excerpt:
The evening had ended strangely. A simple throwaway goodnight kiss from Darryl had set Hettie’s senses aflame, kindling the sexual heat in her that seemed to be simmering all the time now.
“Goodnight, Hettie,” he’d said, walking around to her where she still sat at table. He’d looked a picture, all in dark blue, in a soft silk shirt and Italian‑tailored trousers. He was so handsome and so easy to want that under any other circumstances, she might simply have propositioned him. Especially when he leaned forward and pressed his lips against her burning cheek.
Nephews kissed aunts like this, and favorite grandsons put their mouths this lightly and slightly to the cheeks of their grandmas. But to Hettie it was a trigger, launching a wave of sexual energy that swept over her belly, her breasts, and her pussy. It was over in seconds and she was stunned. And afterward she couldn’t even remember if she’d actually said goodnight back to him.
Later in the darkness, she couldn’t sleep. She lay thinking of her body’s extreme reaction to Darryl’s innocent kiss and of Stevie’s advice and everything they’d discussed. Her senses were primed and she longed for Starr’s arrival.
Are you even going to turn up?
A glance at the illuminated clock revealed a late, late hour. Surely he’d have come by now if he were going to. Throwing back the covers, Hettie prepared to do something she’d almost done last night—go to Starr’s rooms and seek him out—but at that very moment, the door slid almost soundlessly open and a tall figure appeared in her room.
Greetings and questions clamored in her throat yet faced with him Hettie could not utter a word. She simply watched as he moved forward through the shadows and approached her bed. There was a glimmer of moonlight through the partially closed curtains, and it seemed to paint his long, muscular body with silver as he swiftly shed his robe.
If only I could see your eyes.
The plea remained silent though as he lifted the bedcover and took his place beside her.
If only I could see what’s in your heart.
But the moonbeams weren’t sufficient to reveal him and his face and his amazing blue eyes remained frustratingly shadowed.
I must ask him! I must know how he feels!
The questions tormented her as he efficiently stripped away her nightgown, then ran a long hand down the full length of her torso, lingering at breast and hip. She opened her mouth, not knowing what she was going to say, but before she could utter a word, he covered it with his hand. The same hand that had shaped her curves settled gently but firmly over her lips, sealing her to silence.
In the darkness, he seemed fierce, almost like angry primal man forbidding his woman to speak. And then a second later the hand was gone. Only to be replaced by Starr’s mouth, kissing her with a new and unprecedented savagery as if he wanted to expunge any words that might come between them.
Starr, what is it? Do you love me…or hate me?
Her cries remained unuttered as she thrilled to the animal intensity of the kiss. Her jaw ached. She felt as if he were devouring her as his tongue explored and possessed the delicate interior of her mouth. And as he kissed ferociously, his hand slid between her legs, taking possession there too. He caressed her thrillingly, rubbing quite hard and occasionally edging back and forcing her legs wider so he could gain better access.
As she groaned around his tongue, he pushed first one, then two, then three fingers inside her, thrusting and rocking them until her besieged flesh yielded its pleasure to him and she climaxed so intensely it was almost painful.
A second later, he was inside her, his cock as insistent and dominating as his fingers had been. He powered into her, the strokes deep and angry. Instinctively, she rose to him, glorying in his loving ruthlessness and orgasming again quickly and violently.
Her mind was a maelstrom of pure feeling, but at the edge of consciousness, she still heard the desperation in Starr’s hoarse cry of release.
Was that true emotion he was expressing? Or simply the physical, as ever, overwhelming him? Exhaustion overcame her before she was able to determine…
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