Book One in the St. Martin Family Saga: Whiskey Cove
Caleb sensed the warm naked body in bed next to him. He knew it was Chloe but what he couldn’t figure out was why. He’d grown up next door to her, had teased her relentlessly. And she’d hated him for it. Memories from last night of the curves she’d grown into had his mouth going dry. He’d had no words with which to tease, all he could do was moan.
Had Chloe actually had sex with a man she’d hated for a decade? A full percussion section was banging in Chloe’s head as the memories came to her in pieces—martinis, dancing, his hands, his hardness. God, he’d been solid male muscle. This can’t be happening. Hadn’t she made a commitment to herself to settle the score with Caleb if given the chance? Instead, she was right back where she was all those years ago, panting after him in all of his unobtainable glory.
Will their obvious sexual attraction be enough to cut through years of hate?
Enjoy an Excerpt
Chloe Mills groaned at the piercing light invading her sleep and at the ungodly troll driving spikes into her brain. Then she gasped at the low raspy moan funneled into her ear from the body next to her. Shit! Damn Las Vegas and their pleasure slogan. What happened in Sin City might stay there, but the repercussions could easily trail the sinner for a lifetime.
Chloe’s gaze darted around the room, taking in its tattered and faded gold wallpaper, stained beige carpet, dirty walls, and squealing air conditioner.
Lifting the covers to peek underneath, she winced to find herself naked, that nakedness canceling out any hope she had that maybe, just maybe, she and the guy in her bed had been too drunk to have sex.
God, she didn’t even know who he was. She hoped her friends hadn’t let her go off with a scuzzy stranger dripping some disease.
To her right lay a beautiful naked male body with long lean muscles and bronzed skin. As she scanned his sinewy chest—a six-pack plus—she congratulated herself that at least she’d chosen an Adonis to pleasure herself with. Too bad she couldn’t remember anything about the pleasuring. Her eyes followed his lean torso down to his manhood, currently fully engorged.
“God,” she whispered and dropped the bedding. He was impressive.
He moaned again and she looked to her right, but his forearm shielded his eyes, and she couldn’t make out his face. Unfortunately, she could recognize one highly distinctive feature—the tattoos on his triceps. Only it couldn’t be. God help her, it better not be. For the love of all that was good and holy—and for the sake of his balls—the man sharing her bed better not be Caleb St. Martin.
She looked again, only to have her worst fear confirmed. It was, in fact, Cal. Oh my God, she thought as she pushed at his body underneath the covers. Her efforts were futile—the man was a solid wall of stone. She snatched her hand back when contact with his warm body caused an electric current to buzz through hers.
She’d spent a good part of her adolescence and young adult life pining after Cal.
She’d purposefully wander onto his family’s land and wait for him in the climbing tree or at the tree house designated St. Martin boys only. He’d tolerated her in their early years but as they got older, he’d taken to being a bully. She’d spent hours dreaming and doodling Mrs. St. Martin in her journal. Then reality hit. She’d heard through her friends of his conquests at college. Thank God the university was large enough she never had to witness his exploits once she started going there.
“Get up!” she cried.
He swore low and raspy. Voice dripping with an eroticism that had her quivering, he said, “What’s your problem, woman, didn’t you get enough last night?” He grasped her hand under the sheet and held it to his erection, rubbing up and down. “I’m good for another round if you’re up for it.”
He sizzled in her hand, and she pulled back as if she’d been burned. “Oh! You, you, bastard. I can’t believe you brought me to this seedy motel and took advantage of me.”
His eyes were closed as he lay languidly, a smirk on his face. “You were the one sticking your tongue in my ear at the casino last night. Couldn’t keep your hands off me.”
“I hate you, Caleb St. Martin.” Chloe swung her legs from beneath the covers and stood as her anger began to build. She continued her rant all the way to the bathroom as she stomped off in search of her clothes.
Watching her storm into the bathroom, Cal could definitely appreciate the curves Chloe had picked up since her tomboy days. Her ass was lush and full, just the way he liked them. He recalled the warmth of those luscious globes in his hands last night. Damn! He went painfully hard just thinking of her body.
Cal stretched, remembering how much fun he’d always had picking on Chloe. It was quite humorous the two of them had ended up in bed together. They’d always hated one another. Growing up on the neighboring property in Whiskey Cove, their little hometown outside of Baton Rouge, Cal had always delighted in playing practical jokes on Chloe. He didn’t understand why he enjoyed teasing her so much, but it certainly gave him great pleasure. Perhaps it was the way she always took herself so seriously that made it fun. Right now she was banging things around in the bathroom and talking to herself. He always knew she was a little odd. Was she giving herself a pep talk?
As Cal pushed himself up on his elbows and then slowly sat up, he squinted at the light pouring in from the gap in the dusty and threadbare curtain. What Chloe had said was right—this was a seedy motel and a shitty one at that. At least he could have taken her to the Bellagio. He scratched his head, trying to recall how the events of last night played out. The memories were foggy. He stood and stretched, then looked down into the wastebasket and idly counted the condoms there. Six? Not possible. Had they done it six times? Fuuuuuck!
Cal strode to the bathroom and pushed the door open, startling Chloe and confirming that yes, she was in fact giving herself a pep talk in the mirror.
“And you will put this night behind you and get your degree.”
With a lazy smile, he walked to the toilet and lifted the seat. He pulled himself into position. “How are you feeling?”
“What the hell are you doing?” she screeched. “Don’t look at me! Where are my damn clothes?”
The shrillness of Chloe’s voice sent needles into his eye sockets. He braced himself with his free hand on the wall above the toilet. “Will you stop yelling. I gotta take a piss, and it’s a little late for modesty, isn’t it?”
She went into a full-on diatribe. “How am I feeling? I had sex with Caleb St. Martin, the devil himself. I don’t know if we even used protection. God, I don’t want to catch your diseases.”
Cal turned his head in her direction. “I don’t have diseases and we used protection. Six times.”
“How do you feel physically?”
Chloe’s body bowed and tensed. Cal mentally braced for the onslaught of her wrath.
“You can save the fake compassion. It’s not like you ever cared about my welfare before.”
What? He’d known Chloe her entire life—of course he’d looked out for her. But she was always a bit peculiar. For instance, why was she so mad about last night?
“I don’t know why you’re acting like this. You should be thanking me. Since you were with me last night, you’re safe. If you had woken up next to someone else, who knows what would have become of you.”
After relieving himself, Cal turned toward Chloe and watched her glorious and full raspberry-tipped breasts sway with the rage that coursed through her. His eyes narrowed, and he felt himself go hard.
Chloe had started pacing the floor in front of the vanity. She turned toward him with a distinctly angry snarl on her face and her fists clenched at her sides.
“You’re so fucking arrogant. I can’t believe I ever even thought I wanted this. Plus, I don’t even get to remember what happened last night.” Her frantic pacing picked up speed. “And since college you’ve been fucking every girl that smiled at you. You’re a man-whore. And God, what if I get pregnant? Cal! Are you even listening to me?” She looked down his body. When she took in his arousal, her arms crossed her chest and her lips tightened.
Yeah, she was ticked, but she was also aroused. Her nipples hardened and lengthened before his eyes. Cal swallowed the lump in his throat. “Not listening. Too busy watching your tits grow hard.”
He ducked when Chloe threw a Nevada-shaped glass ashtray at his head. It hit the wall behind him and crashed to pieces on the floor.