My friend and frequent contributor to my anthologies Kristina Wright is giving away a copy of Bedding Down on her blog! All you have to do is tell her your favorite winter memory.
Here's an excerpt from her novella "One Night in Winter," which opens Bedding Down:,
He worked the knots loose, but he wasn’t gentle about it. She heard a startling rip and was suddenly able to breathe. The relief at being free of the offending garment was countered with dismay.
“Did you have to be so rough?”
“There was a time,” he said, his fingers running up the length of her spine and making her shiver, “when you liked it rough.”
As if her body was detached from her brain, she found herself leaning into his touch. She knew she should pull away, demand he get out and make sure he didn’t touch her for the rest of the weekend, but… she couldn’t. Part of it was because she hadn’t been touched like this—slowly, sensually—in longer than she cared to remember. The other part was simple: as much as she loathed him, she had never been able to forget Derrick.
“You not only liked it rough, you begged for it,” he murmured in her ear as he caught up her long hair in his hand and gave it a firm tug. “Remember?”
She closed her eyes and gasped at the sensation that ran along her scalp and made her weak in the knees. “There are some things I’d rather forget,” she said, hearing the catch in her own voice.
“Not me,” he said. “I remember pulling your hair like this while I fucked you, so deep inside you I thought I’d died and gone to heaven and I didn’t give a damn.”
She couldn’t help herself, she whimpered and moved back against him. His erection was impossible to ignore through the thin material of her dress. She pressed her ass against him, feeling him hard and hot through the layers of clothing.
He groaned and tugged her hair hard. “A month with you wasn’t damn near enough.”
His words were like a splash of cold water in her face. She took a deep breath, reminded herself of why she was here, and pulled away, ignoring the sting in her scalp when he didn’t release her hair immediately. She met her gaze in the mirror and, galvanized, turned to face him—and her past.
“Things have changed, Derrick.”
He arched one cocky eyebrow. “Really?”
She raised her left hand, hating herself while also feeling relieved. “I’m the married one, this time. I take my vows seriously.”
He laughed in disbelief. “I have a hard time believing that the way you whimpered and rubbed against me just now.”
Despite a flush of embarrassment, she remained firm. “Believe it.”
He was staring past her, at her reflection in the mirror. “You’d be more convincing if your dress wasn’t unlaced down to your very sexy ass.”
She fumbled behind her, attempting to hold the fabric together, which only served to make the bodice of her dress slip. “Would you please get out of here?”
He opened his mouth as if to speak, then shook his head. “Whatever you say, Susannah. Just one thing—“
He dipped a finger into her cleavage, setting her skin on fire and causing her to gasp. With a tug of the silky fabric, he pulled her up against him until his erection was pressed at the juncture of her thighs. He stroked the swell of her breasts, rocking his pelvis against her, fucking her through their clothes. He moved his hands lower until his fingers grazed her hard nipples, leaving a trail of heat everywhere he touched her.
She pushed her breasts toward him, nearly out of her mind with desire and oblivious to the fact that her dress had fallen to her waist. Her eyes fluttered closed so she wouldn’t have to gaze at his hungry expression that she knew mirrored her own. Her nipples ached to be pinched and tugged, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction she craved; he touched her gently, teasingly.
Her barely controlled arousal flared again and her pulse raced, despite her good intentions. She moaned, and the sound echoed off the mirrored walls of the dressing room. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and held him to her breast, silently pleading for more.
Read the rest in Bedding Down: A Collection of Winter Erotica