Love
can't be taught, but it can be unlearned. When Associate Professor Stella
Greene lost her mentor on Valentine's Day, she also lost her way both
professionally and romantically. Her academic career, and her desire to love
again, stagnated. Pete Hart’s doctorate degree in cinema and art history gives
him an eye for detail and an appreciation for beauty. When Pete and Stella’s
paths cross, they realize there’s nothing academic about their attraction to
one another. But can even the patience and
persistence of Dr. Hart withstand the distance Stella’s pain places between
them? Can love be relearned? Or will Pete have to take matters into his own
hands to claim Stella’s heart?
Buy Links:
All Romance:
About
The Author
Mary
Billiter, Writing as Pumpkin Spice, For Evernight Publishing:
Visit her website: http://www.marybilliter.com/
Write to her at: pumpkinspicecom@yahoo.com
Follow her on Twitter: @PumpkinSpiceU2
Excerpt:
We
barely set foot in his apartment before shoes were kicked off, coats peeled
away, his sweater was shed, and I think he was almost out of his jeans when he
realized that maybe things were moving too fast. In a white cotton t-shirt and
his button fly jeans open, his gray-blue eyes shone in the moonlight.
His
gaze then held mine as he walked toward me and started to unbutton my silk
blouse. It slid off my shoulders and dropped to the floor. Pete waited while I
unzipped my jeans, and then we both stepped out of our jeans together. I stood
before him in a black lace bra and pink cotton low-rise panties that had
“Wednesday” stamped on the fabric.
He
raised an eyebrow.
I
shrugged. “I’m kind of into days of the week.”
He
tried not to laugh.
I
lightly whacked him on the shoulder. “Hey! It keeps me on track.”
“And
clearly that’s important.”
“Well,
it can be.” I crossed my arms over my chest and suddenly felt very naked.
Pete
moved toward me. And I moved away in equal measure.
“I
think it’s cute.”
I
held up a finger. “I’ll have you know that days of the week panties are not easy to find.” As soon as the words
came out of my mouth I cringed.
“There
may be a good reason for that,” Pete said and burst out laughing.
I
bit the inside of my mouth to stop from laughing, but it didn’t work. I started
giggling.
“Come
here,” Pete waved me toward him. “Come here, Wednesday.”
“Oh,
har-har.”
I
stepped back from him, keeping my eyes firmly on his. The excitement glittering
back at me intensified my desire.
“If
you think Wednesday looks good, you should see Thursday…” I tried to sound
seductive when really there wasn’t anything sexy about cotton panties or the
days of the week stamped on them, but I only had so much to work with. Then I
saw the movies posters in his front room, and I instantly knew what do to.
Stripper
Gypsy Rose Lee had less to work, but made more with what she had. She was the
woman that literally put the “tease” in “striptease”. Gypsy was one movie I knew Pete would have seen and one role I knew
I could pull off.
“And
Friday … oh you should see Friday’s panties…” I slowly glided my bra off my
shoulders with my fingertips without revealing anything significant.
Pete’s
eyes roamed my body, and I savored the seduction. I turned my back and
unclasped my bra, exposing my bare back to him. Sliding the bra off, I covered
my breasts with one hand and faced him. With my other hand, I twirled my bra on
my index finger. Pete was my captive audience.
I
dropped my hand that held my breasts, pulled back the elastic band on my bra
and aimed it like a slingshot.
“Saturday’s
panty is pretty saucy, too. It has lace.” I released the bra. It lobbed in the
air and then fell, missing my mark.
Pete
reached up and grabbed my wrist. He pulled me toward him. “You talk too much.”
My
breasts playfully bounced and pressed against his firm chest. He wrapped his
other arm around the small of my back, his fingertips grazing my skin. The
force between us electrified, always simmering below the surface, too powerful
to deny when we collided. His lips commandeered mine, and my need for him built
and screamed for release.
He
grabbed my arm and led me to his bedroom. He braced my fall when he leaned us
down onto his bed. His unshaven cheek grazed against my neck in an oddly rough,
yet subtly seductive way. Everything Pete did, was, and said created a fiery
passion in me so strong I had to dig my nails into his back just to make sure I
wasn’t dreaming. Our bodies brushed, and our breathing grew heavier.
He
rocked back to pull off his t-shirt, and I deeply inhaled the cologne I sensed
he sprayed in the center of his chest. I pulled him down and crushed him
against my taut nipples. Hell, yeah.
His
lips kissed and bit my neck. My body waited. Anticipation grew for what I
craved now more than ever. He pulled my panties to the side and looked at me.
Damn. His
eyes always got to me. They flashed with a mixture of mischievousness and
caution as they drank me in. Without uttering a word, his eyes waited for
permission. I had the control.
I
coyly grinned and opened myself to him.
He
reached into the drawer of his nightstand. He ripped the condom packet open
with his teeth, slid the sheath over his cock, and dove into me. I moaned and
tried to remember how to breathe all at the same time. God, he feels good. His pace and intensity slowed. He waited for me
to catch up to him. I need more. His
hands caressed my thighs.
I
wrapped my legs around him and pulled him deeper into me.
A
low groan rose from his throat. “Stella…” Powerful gray-blue eyes locked onto
mine. “I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that.”
But
I wasn’t even close to being ready. I slowed down my pace and looked up at him.
“Then let’s play around the world.”
He
looked at me, trying to make sense of the sudden shift.
“You
know, a trip around our bodies exploring all
the different spots.”
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