- “This was super entertaining and gave me pretty much everything you’d expect to read about when dealing with a contemporary rock story.” ~ The Jeep Diva
- “THE OPPOSITE OF RIGHT is romance, passion, self-awakening and insight rolled into an entertaining steamy novella you won’t put down until the very end.” ~ Thoughts In Progress
- “I found it to be a cute, fun read that moved very quickly.” ~ Romancing The Readers
Kylie tugged at the hem of her first ever Riptide concert shirt. It was faded. Too big, since she’d bought it to wear at the gym. So she quickly knotted it high over one hip. It exposed her midriff and pulled the material tight against her breasts. Perfect—in all the wrong ways. She could do this. She had to do this. So what if she’d never hit on a man before? This was the Metro, for crying out loud, one of Chicago’s most famous rock clubs. People probably hooked up by the bathrooms twenty times a night. If everyone else could do it, so could Kylie.
She looked back over her shoulder at Amanda, who grinned like a fool and gave her two thumbs up. Okay, then. Waiting wouldn’t make her any braver. So she marched right up to the hot man. Couldn’t even see his face because of the exposed single lightbulb hanging two inches above his head. Kylie focused on the late day scruff along his jawline instead.
“Hi. I think you’re hot. I’ve had a really lousy day, and I think kissing you will make it better.”
Silence—or what passed for silence in a crowded club at almost ten pm—hung between them just long enough for Kylie to decide she’d made a horrible mistake. She was only wearing jeans, not anything sexy. This guy was waiting for a bathroom to open up. Maybe he needed to pee more than he needed to be sexually accosted by a stranger. She tried to squint past the bright halo obscuring his face to figure out if he was smiling or shocked or just dismissive.
“Let’s find out,” he finally said in a good-natured tone.
Wow. That was easy. Except….asking him was only step one of her first bad decision. Implementing step two was something else entirely. Kylie had no idea how to start. Should she wait until after the bathroom? Go straight for the lips, or kick things off with an introductory neck nibble? And where to put her hands?
The man snaked out an arm around her waist, pulling her close enough that the buttons on their jeans clinked. Kylie stumbled, which ended up putting one of his legs between hers. Both hands flew up to rest on those taut pecs. “Hi,” he breathed softly against her ear.
Oh. That was nice of him. The polite ‘hi’ was all it took to spur her into action. Kylie pushed onto her tiptoes, turned her head sideways and aimed for his lips. She almost missed. Got the corner and some sharp stubble.
But this guy knew his stuff. He caught her lower lip with his upper, tugged her into place. And then he nibbled. Just soft, short nibbles. Ones that made all the hair on her arms stand up. His tongue traced the crease between her lips. Kylie parted them on a sigh, but he didn’t push the advantage. Instead, he just kept up the teasing, back and forth motion.
Heat seared into her lower back. Without her realizing it, he’d shifted his hand to the exposed skin between her jeans and tied-up tee. Big. Warm. Moving in a slow whoosh, like a brush across a snare drum. It made Kylie want to wriggle closer. So still on tiptoe, she wrapped her leg around his. That motion brought her flush against something very, very hard. Wow.
His other hand grasped the side of her face. Tilted it back a bit. Then his tongue finally swooped in, caressing—seriously!—all of her tongue as carefully and thoroughly as Kylie imagined he might treat her breast. God, she wanted to rip her shirt off and let him do just that.
Tipping his forehead against hers, he asked, “Is your day any better now?”
“Who cares about my day? My night is freaking fantastic.”