COUNTDOWN TO COMING UNDONE – WHEEEEE!! Just a little over two weeks to go! How about an excerpt?
Brody Brown has always been responsible for others. After his parents’ death, he gave up a promising artistic career to care for his younger brother and sister. Now, with his siblings grown, Brody owns his own business, has a nice house, makes a nice living, and for the first time in years he’s on his own.
Elise Sorenson has come to Seattle with her young daughter to find peace. After years as a world-famous ballerina—(and just as many years in a marriage-gone-bad)—she’s looking for neither love nor attention. But she finds both in the handsome, honest man who befriends her with no strings attached.
More than friends, Brody and Elise discover in each other what they need—wild, physical passion without commitment. But it’ll take a shadow from Elise’s past to make them look beyond what they need—to what they truly desire.
COMING UNDONE was given a TOP PICK by RT Booklover’s Magazine! Dane revisits the Brown family from LAID BARE in this knockout erotic tale. This is a major “feel good” book about two people rebounding from hard knocks without bitterness. It also comes with emotionally mature characters, palpable love and caring among family and friends, an adorable child and suspense. It that’s not enough, this is also passionate fun and intense sex. Hero Brody is a winner — sensitive and sexy.
COMING UNDONE by LAUREN DANE
Copyright 2010, Lauren Dane
All Rights Reserved, The Berkley Publishing Group
She laughed. “Well, we dancers don’t like to just walk away if we don’t have to. I don’t want to stop dancing. I just can’t do it at the level I had before. So this is a wonderful opportunity for me. And yes, it helps that I was at the level I was when I . . . retired.”
The weight of all they left unsaid hung between them. “Will you dance for me? I’ve only seen The Nutcracker. My mom, she took us every year. I didn’t see much of you when I came in.”
“I’m not . . . not what I was in those pictures. My right leg was broken in two places. I’m older now. I’m not her anymore.”
He stepped closer, so close she scented the soap he’d used that morning. “You’re you. Please. I’d very much like to see you dance.”
She paused, taking his measure. “All right. You can sit over there if you like. How about something a little nontraditional? Before I left, one of the choreographers did something for me. It’s one of my favorite pieces.”
“I’d like that.”
She moved away and he settled into a nearby chair. She bent in half, and he had a brief but very vivid image of bending her over just that way and sliding his cock into her from behind. Christ, the woman did things to his mind.
But when she hit the remote and moved into position, and a few moments later Tito Puente came through the speakers, he was a goner.
Shoulders rolling, she moved slowly, sensuously, across the hardwood floors. She opened herself up to the music, to the movements, until it was all one thing. Like breathing. She was the dance. The beat was cha-cha, so the choreography was all about sensuality, grace, balance and movements from the toes up. So many times every day she failed to find the words, but when she moved she didn’t need words, she spoke with her body.
His eyes on her were a brand. The tension between them was taut, exciting. She felt him watch her, his gaze a heated caress of her neck, her arms. In his eyes, she felt beautiful and sexy. Elise was, right then, a siren, a seductress with her body and her grace. It was rare to feel that anymore, and the confidence of it roared through her. She knew her leaps were beautiful, her grand jetÃ©s precise and her pirouettes spot-on. Part of her wanted him to see how good she was, wanted him to realize she was more than a broken dancer who’d run from the spotlight, but a dancer who’d held it for good reason for many years.
It burned within her, that recognition, that beauty, until she stepped back on her left foot, rolling her shoulders to set her head when the music died.
Time slid by as she stood tall and met his gaze. Silence, thick, charged, hung between them. Everything unsaid, everything said and done, it was all there in his gaze, in the one she returned. Oh, how she wanted this man. He simply continued to watch her without speaking. He stared for so long, she wondered if she’d misinterpreted those looks from him as she danced.
“I’ve never seen anything like you before.” He moved to her slowly, not gracefully; he was too big for that. But enough to let her step back or run. The heat in his eyes, the memory of his lips on her wrist, of his taste on her tongue, held here there, rooted to the spot.
“Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”
“To be honest with you, Elise, I don’t know. Here’s what I do know. I can’t stop thinking about you. Thinking about those kisses we shared, about the way your pulse at your wrist beat against my lips. The hollow of your throat.” He drew a fingertip over that very sensitive skin and she drew in a shaky breath. “The way you smell. Christ, so feminine. Not flowery, not vanilla, but so female. Drives me crazy.” He leaned in and took a deep breath, his lips hovering just above her shoulder.
“I probably smell like female sweat just now.” She tried to joke, but his nearness put her on edge. Not with fear but with desire, with wanting things she’d never imagined she’d want. Of wanting him to give her exactly what he said he wanted to deliver. Of wanting him to take.
“You smell so fucking good, I want to take a big bite. I want to lick you from the tips of your toes to the tops of your ears.”
His words left her gaping like a goldfish in a bowl. She gave in to the feelings, let go and let her fingers thread through that thick hair of his. It was softer than she’d imagined. The strength of him under her hands, as he bent to her, sent a tremor through her. Oh, she wanted this, wanted the power of his body against hers, sliding skin to skin.
“I want you, Elise, and I think you want me too. No. I know you do. I can see it there in your eyes. I tasted it on your skin.”