Monica Murphy - Torn

“And you said yes.”

She nods her confirmation.

“What about your parents?”

I feel her stiffen and squeeze her closer, willing her to relax. She finally does. “I think I can convince them to come around. Dad is more agreeable then Mom,” Marina says.

“Well, you have your work cut out for you then, don’t you, Pretty Boy?”

I inwardly groan at her choice of nickname. “So we’re back to Pretty Boy?”

“Well, you sure are pretty with that shit-eating grin on your face now that you’ve got your woman back in your arms.” Gina smiles and tilts her head toward the café. “You two need to get out there. Everyone wants to talk to you.”

“Really?” Marina asks incredulously.

“Really,” I say, kissing her temple. “They all know I did this for you.”

“How come I was kept in the dark?” She pouts.

“You did that by choice, by becoming a total recluse,” I tease, though it hurts me too. I hate that I made her feel so bad she could hardly drag herself out of bed.

She turns so she’s facing me once more. We promise Gina we’ll be out there in a few minutes just as she exits the kitchen.

“I am the luckiest woman in the world,” Marina sighs against my lips before she starts kissing me again.

Damn it. She keeps this up, and we’ll test out that new desk I had installed in the office. See if it’s as sturdy as it appears. I set her away from me instead. “Later. Right now, we need to go greet our guests.”

More mock pouting. Damn, her lips are luscious. Unable to resist, I drop a kiss on her forehead, her nose, lingering on those delicious lips. “Let’s go out there and tell them our good news. You can show off your ring.”

“Maybe I want to stay back here with you instead.” A wicked gleam lights her eyes. “If there weren’t so many people out there I’d suggest we reenact the first time we fooled around in the kitchen.”

Damn. This woman blows my mind constantly. “You’re out of control. Don’t you still have the video? We can watch it later.”

That wicked glow shines brighter. “I do still have it.”

I drop a kiss on her nose. “Maybe we should make another one sometime.” I can’t even believe I made the suggestion, but that’s how far gone I am for this woman. “Now come on, let’s go talk to your customers.”

“Gage.” She stops me before I start out to the café front, a frown on her face. “So does our engagement mean you lost the bet?”

I frown, realization dawning as soon as I hear the words. “You know about the bet?”

Slowly she nods, nibbling on her lower lip. “Ivy told me a while ago, one night when we were hanging out. She said I had a right to know.”

“And you’re not mad?” I remember how Ivy had reacted. Not a pretty sight.

“Of course not. I wish you would’ve told me about it sooner.” She loops her arms around my neck. “I would’ve helped you win.”

Damn. More confirmation of just how perfect she is for me.

Gently pushing her away, I take her hand and we exit the kitchen, immediately greeted by the wild applause and celebratory shouts from our neighbors and customers. I even recognize a few friends in the crowd, though I hadn’t noticed them before. The both of us step back, overwhelmed by the response, and she grins up at me, squeezing my hand.

My heart expands in my chest, filling up so much space, I’m almost afraid I can’t breathe.

But that’s okay. As long as I have Marina by my side, we can get through anything.

Together.

Ivy

A KNOCK SOUNDS at the door and I jump, grabbing the robe off the hook with lightning speed. Throwing it on, I approach, figuring it’s Gage ready to tell me something lame before he goes to bed. He’s always been a little overprotective, so he’s probably just checking up on me.

“I’m fine, Gage. Really,” I say as I open the door, stunned silent when I see who’s standing before me.

“Really?” Archer raises a brow, one hand in his pants pocket, the other clutching an article of clothing. “Why wouldn’t you be anything but fine?”

Oh. Shit. He should so not be standing in front of me right now. “What are you doing here?” I whisper, glancing over his shoulder to thankfully see Gage’s door is closed.

“Making sure you’re comfortable.” He thrusts his hand out toward me. “I brought you something.”

I’m ultra-aware of the fact that beneath the terry cloth, I’m wearing absolutely nothing. The impulse to untie the sash and let the robe drop to my feet just to see Archer’s reaction is near overwhelming.

But I keep it under control. For now.

“What is this?” I take the wadded-up fabric from his hand, our fingers accidentally brushing, and heat rushes through me at first contact.

“One of my T-shirts.” He shrugs those broad shoulders, which are still encased in fine white cotton. “I know you didn’t have anything to wear to . . . bed. Thought I could offer you this.”

His eyes darken at the word bed and my knees wobble. Good lord, what this man is doing to me is so completely foreign, I’m not quite sure how to react.

“Um, thanks. I appreciate it.” The T-shirt is soft, the fabric thin, as if it’s been worn plenty of times, and I have the sudden urge to hold it to my nose and inhale. See if I can somehow smell his scent lingering in the fabric.

The man is clearly turning me into a freak of epic proportions.

“You’re welcome.” He leans his tall body against the doorframe, looking sleepy and rumpled and way too sexy for words. I want to grab his hand and yank him into my room.

Wait, no I don’t. That’s a bad—terrible—idea.

Liar.

“Is that all then?” I ask, because we don’t need to be standing here having this conversation. First, my brother could find us and start in again on what a mistake we are. Second, I’m growing increasingly uncomfortable with the fact that I’m completely naked beneath the robe. Third, I’m still contemplating shedding the robe and showing Archer just how naked I am.

“Yeah. Guess so.” His voice is rough and he pushes away from the doorframe. “Well. Good night.”

“Good night,” I whisper, but I don’t shut the door. I don’t move.

Neither does he.

“Ivy . . .” His voice trails off and he clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. Which is hot. Oh my God, everything he does is hot and I decide to give in to my impulses, because screw it.

I want him.

Archer

LIKE AN IDIOT, I can’t come up with anything to say. It’s like my throat is clogged, and I can hardly force a sound out, what with Ivy standing before me, her long, wavy, dark hair tumbling past her shoulders, her slender body engulfed in the thick white robe I keep for guests. The very same type of robe we provide at Hush.

But then she does something so surprising—so amazingly awesome—I’m momentarily dumbfounded by the sight.

Her slender hands go for the belt of the robe and she undoes it quickly, the fabric parting, revealing bare skin. Completely bare skin.

Holy shit. She’s naked. And she just dumped the robe onto the ground so she’s standing in front of me. Again, I must stress, naked.

My mouth drops open, a rough sound coming from low in my throat. Damn, she’s gorgeous. All long legs and curvy waist and hips and full breasts topped with pretty pink nipples. I’m completely entranced for a long, agonizing moment. All I can do is gape at her.

“Well, are you just going to stand there and wait for my brother to come back out and find us like this or are you going to come inside my room?”

Bryn

“I SHOULDN’T DO this.” He’s coming right at me, one determined step after another, and I slowly start to back up, fear and excitement bubbling up inside me, making it hard to think clearly.

“Shouldn’t do what?”

I lift my chin, my gaze meeting his, and I see all the turbulent, confusing emotions in his eyes, the grim set of his jaw and usually lush mouth. The man means business—what sort of business I’m not exactly sure, but I can take a guess. Increasing my pace, I take hurried backward steps to get away from all that handsome intensity coming at me until my butt meets the wall.

I’m trapped. And in the best possible place too.

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all night,” he practically growls, stopping just in front of me.

I have? I want to ask, but I keep my lips clamped tight. He never seems to notice me, not that I ever really want him to. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself. That sort of thing usually brings too much unwanted attention. I’ve dealt with that sort of trouble before, and it nearly destroyed me.

The more time I spend with my boss though, the more I want him to see me. Really see me as a woman. Not the dependable, efficiently organized Miss James who makes his life so much easier.

I want Matt to see me as a woman. A woman he wants.

Playing with fire . . .

The thought floating through my brain is apt, considering the potent heat in Matt’s gaze.

“I don’t understand how I could be, considering I’ve done nothing but work my tail off the entire evening,” I retort, wincing the moment the words leave me. I blame my mounting frustration over our situation. I’m tired, I’ve done nothing but live and breathe this winery opening for the last few weeks, and I’m ready to go home and crawl into bed. Pull the covers over my head and sleep for a month.

But if a certain someone wanted to join me in my bed, there wouldn’t be any sleeping involved. Just plenty of nakedness and kissing and hot, delicious sex . . .

My entire body flushes at the thought.

“And I appreciate you working that pretty tail of yours off for me. Though I’d hate to see it go,” he drawls, his gaze dropping low. Like he’s actually trying to check out my backside. His flirtatious tone shocks me, rendering me still.

Our relationship isn’t like this. Strictly professional is how Matt and I keep it between us. But that last remark was most definitely what I would consider flirting. And the way he’s looking at me . . .

Oh. My.

My cheeks warm when he stops directly in front of me. I can feel his body heat, smell his intoxicating scent, and I press my lips together to keep from saying something really stupid.

God, I want you. So bad my entire body aches for your touch.

Yeah. I sound like those romance novels I used to devour when I had more time to freaking read. I always thought those emotions were so exaggerated. No way could what happens in a romance novel actually occur in real life.

But I’m feeling it. Right now. With Matthew DeLuca. And the way he’s looking at me almost makes me think he might be feeling it too.

“So um, h-how have I been driving you crazy?” I swallow hard. I sound like a stuttering idiot, and I’m trying to calm my racing heart but it’s no use. We’re staring at each other in silence, the only sound our accelerated breathing, and then he reaches out. Rests his fingers against my cheek. Lets them drift along my face.

Slowly I close my eyes and part my lips, sharp pleasure piercing through me at his intimate touch. I curl my fingers against the wall as if I can grab onto it, afraid I might slide to the ground if I don’t get a grip and soon. I can smell him. Feel him. We’ve been close to each other before, but not like this. Never like this.

“You look so damn beautiful tonight,” he whispers, his rough voice sending a scatter of goose bumps across my skin.

“Thank you.” I crack open my eyes to find he’s moved even closer, one hand braced against the wall, the other still touching my face. Tilting my head back, I meet his gaze, my lids flickering when he strokes his thumb across my lower lip.

“It’s taking everything inside of me not to just give in and kiss you,” he admits gruffly, his hot eyes roaming over my face, then dropping lower, settling on my chest. I can feel my nipples tighten beneath the silk fabric of my dress and I’m suddenly, achingly aware of what little clothing I’m wearing. No bra, no panties . . .

My dress is the only barrier between Matt’s hands and my skin.

“What’s stopping you?” I reach out, slip my fingers down the length of his black tie. I can’t believe I just said that. I can’t believe I’m touching him, though really I’m only caressing his tie. Big deal.