Title: Unexpected Angel
Author: Sloan Johnson
Release Date: August 5, 2013
Tasha Skinner finally shed the baggage of a failed marriage. Now, she’s looking forward to a night of margaritas and man-bashing. Tasha’s friends have other plans, including Leather, Lace and liberation. Dylan Caprese didn’t want to go to Marquee, but he and his friends were on a mission. They took it upon themselves to make sure things didn’t get out of hand when wannabe Doms mixed alcohol with playtime at the monthly Leather and Lace night. From the moment he set eyes on Tasha, he knew there was something different about her. She wasn’t some bondage babe who thought she knew what it meant to be into BDSM. She was much, much worse; she was innocent and trusting. He can tell she is something precious. When Tasha’s past threatens to destroy her, Dylan begins to realize that while their paths have never crossed, their lives most definitely have. Will he be able to save her before it’s too late?
Dylan’s condo is modern and sleek. Shades of gray and black with pops of purple and white fill the living room with color. The open floor plan allows me to see the professional-grade stainless steel appliances in the kitchen. I look to my left and the amazing view of the Capitol mesmerizes me. The beauty of downtown Madison is one of the many things I love about living in this area, but I have never seen a view like the one through Dylan’s floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s as if we’re so close that I could reach out and touch the illuminated dome.
“Nice place,” I mutter as I try to hide the fact that I am in absolute awe. Earlier in the night, I imagined him living in an affordable, somewhat rundown apartment. I picture successful doctors and lawyers living in a place like this. Then again, for all I know he could be either of those. We haven’t exactly gotten to know one another all that well in the few hours since we met.
“Thanks. Follow me.” We walk down the hall, decorated with black and white prints of area landmarks, and he opens the door directly in front of us, revealing a magnificent bedroom. The focal point in the room is an ebony four-poster bed, king-size of course. More windows reveal yet another stunning view of the Capitol dome.
“I’m not having sex with you,” I state bluntly.
What in the world did I tell him while I was sleeping? Did I agree to have sex with him? Oh heck, this is not good.
Dylan laughs, tossing me a fresh t-shirt out of his dresser. University of Wisconsin marching band alumni. Interesting.
“Yes, we established that. Actually, I told you I wasn’t going to touch you tonight, no matter how much you begged.”
Holy crap, did I beg him to have sex with me? “What did I say?” I plead, desperate for him to tell me. I don’t want to play his silly little game where he decides what to tell me and when.
He turns down the sheets on the bed, turning his back to me while I change. The cardinal red t-shirt is soft, the way only a well-loved shirt could be. The shirt sagging off my shoulder and hanging almost to my knees once again emphasizes the size difference between us. Dylan is one of very few people I have met who has the ability to make me feel small. It’s a foreign but not unwelcome feeling.
“Don’t worry, Precious,” he chuckles, obviously amused by the horrified look on my face. “It wasn’t that bad.” He walks over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I feel vulnerable standing in front of him wearing nothing but one of his shirts and my panties. I also find myself incredibly turned on. “I told you I wouldn’t touch you without your permission and you told me you wanted me to touch you. That’s all.”
Oh. My. Gosh. I actually admitted that to him? Sure, I’ve been thinking about having his hands on my bare skin since before we got to the diner. I want to feel his plump lips clamped onto my nipple as he sucks and bites on it. His strong hands traveling down my stomach until his fingers fill me. Okay, so I officially need to get laid. Maybe being here with him is a good thing. I can have sex, get it out of my system, and quit thinking like a horny teenager. But when I told him I wanted him to touch me, then he said he wouldn’t? Okay, that’s a bit of a blow to the ego. Most men would love to have a woman throwing herself at him.
“So you’re not going to touch me even though I said I wanted you to?” There is no hiding the hurt in my voice.
Sloan is a Midwestern mom who began writing nearly seven years ago as a way to make money while staying home with her daughter. Now, with two kids in tow and having written more articles on how to assemble various pieces of furniture than she can count, she is reaching to make her dreams come true.
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