When I'm With You Part III by Beth Kery

Author:Beth Kery
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-02-07T05:00:00+00:00

Read more of Elise and Lucien’s red-hot romance in

Part IV of WHEN I’M WITH YOU

WHEN I’M BAD

Available from InterMix on March 26, 2013

Keep reading for a taste of Beth Kery’s popular novel from

the One Night of Passion series

ADDICTED TO YOU

Available now from Berkley Heat

No one in their right mind would want to visit him, so the sound of knocking at his front door took him by surprise.

Maybe it was Sherona Legion? But he’d warned the only viable candidate for visitation for miles on end—curvy, kind Sherona—about visiting him on this godforsaken hilltop. Who knew what he’d do to her, the state he’d put himself in? Of course, Sherona’d taken Rill at his word for a year and a half, so he couldn’t imagine who was trying to barge in on his drunken, morose solitude now.

He was so caught off guard by the phenomenon of someone visiting that he briefly reverted to his old self—his civilized self—hastening to answer the door.

He was a big man, so when he tripped on the useless little rug in the entryway, he crashed to the wood floor with the impact of an ax-felled oak.

He rolled over and sat up, curses blistering his tongue, the savage Rill Pierce once again fully in evidence.

“My, my. How the mighty have fallen,” she said from above him.

He glanced up in midprocess of ripping the frilly rug in half, his blurry-eyed gaze encountering long legs and curving hips. Nope, this was definitely not Sherona Legion. His eyes lingered in a lap he’d like to spend the next twenty-four hours in without pause.

He grinned.

There was good reason he’d warned away Sherona Legion. In his drunken state, his usual tight controls on his baser nature had evaporated. It was precisely why he’d made a vow long ago not to drink to excess around women.

No real woman existed like the one in front of him in Vulture’s Canyon, Illinois. Rill was left with the intoxicated conclusion that a sex angel had been dropped on his doorstep, and God had packaged her in a tight tank top and even tighter jeans. If there was a deity looking out for him—something Rill seriously doubted, considering he was sin personified—then said omniscient being would know how he loved nothing more than a woman in jeans that hugged every tight curve.

He unglued his eyes from the tempting juncture of shapely thighs and looked up. He grinned like the town idiot when he saw a glorious spill of brown and gold-streaked hair and thrusting breasts pressed snugly against white cotton.

“Well, well, well . . . what have we here,” he mumbled thickly. He reached and ran his hands over the back of the woman’s thighs. His cock lurched when he encountered her tightly encased buttocks.

He’d finally gotten drunk enough to hallucinate. He was getting good at this wastrel business.

“Rill, what are you—”

She abruptly stopped talking when he kneaded her two round ass cheeks in his palms. His face hovered next to paradise. It was amazing what a guy

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