Excerpt from PASSION’S NECTAR (Book #1 in the Passion Series)
Carrie Norwood woke up slowly, the light of awareness coming in stages, as if she were climbing from a deep, dark well up toward consciousness.
A part of her didn’t want to wake up. There was something back there in the darkness of sleep, something that pulled at her, beckoned her back. It called to her in a soft, seductive whisper.
Less than half awake she placed her hand between her legs…found herself…tried to answer the call.
Hungry and anxious, her body moved in response to her own touch. Her hips gyrated with a will of their own. Her body undulated, writhing in slow, sinuous motion.
Her instinctual movement generated new sensations, brought her closer to wakefulness.
Carrie kept her eyes closed so that she could fully savor the new sensations. She removed her hand from her sweet spot and smiled and stretched, loving the way the luxurious sheets slid against her bare skin. It was like being caressed by a gentle lover.
An amazing lover.
Her body thrummed a memory. The memory became need.
Without thinking about it she put her hand back between her legs, and slipped her fingers into the cleft of her sweet spot; let her palm press against her clit.
Her body shuddered its response. The answer was there, but the memory was fading too fast, slipping away.
So big….so hard…
And so deep…
Her body thrummed at the memory, and hungered.
Soft lips on her neck.
Warm, urgent breath.
Carrie opened her eyes to morning light filtering through window blinds. The light was a distraction, quickening the erasure of her memory.
She lie still, her body enveloped in rich satin, trying to recapture the memory. But wakefulness washed the last of it away.
The sensation of the cool sheets against her bare skin felt so nice. It was like the bed loved her body, the way it caressed her nakedness. She felt so comfortable, like she could sleep for days.
Carrie closed her eyes, for a moment willing to allow sleep to take her away again. But then it occurred to her that these weren’t her sheets. And no one she knew owned satin.
She opened her eyes again.
As she sat up and looked around, confusion colored her waking pleasure.
Carrie rubbed her eyes, blinked and looked around again.
She didn’t recognize her surroundings. Alarm replaced her concern.
As her heartbeat gained speed, the satin sheets slid down her body, and she realized that she was naked in a strange bed in a strange place.
Her still hungry body thrummed a memory:
Her body owned a knowledge that her mind had lost.
Fear replaced Carrie’s alarm.
She was naked and alone, and she didn’t know where she was, or how she’d gotten here.
And, something had happened.
Her body told her so.
The bed was huge, larger than king-sized. Carrie felt tiny in its expanse, and vulnerable in her nakedness. But the vast bedroom dwarfed the bed. The room was as large as the entire first floor of her apartment.
Ornate furnishings dotted the sea of dove gray carpet. The furniture looked heavy and well-crafted, as if it belonged in the bedchamber of some great castle in a land and era in which the sword was the ultimate weapon.
The bedroom’s French double-doors were closed. So was the matching closet door. Another door opened onto a private bath; she could see the edge of a sink vanity and mirror in that space.
Where was she?
Carrie clutched the sheets to her body and fought back the icy fingers of panic. She couldn’t allow herself to lose it. There was an explanation that she’d remember in a moment. She just had to think about it.
She’d gone to that club last night – she remembered that much – to that new place everyone was talking about called Shadows. She’d gone with her best friend Patrice and Louis, her friend and supervisor at the gallery.
That’s it – she’d call Patrice!
Carrie looked around again. Where was her cell phone? Where were her clothes?
She eyed the drawer chest, the armoire, and the closet door. Maybe she’d hung her clothes up before…
Her body thrummed its memory.
Don’t think about that right now, she told herself. Figure out where you are, and how to get out of here.
She’d worn her new green party dress to the club, the sexy number she’d saved for three months to buy. She’d hang that baby up for sure. It had to be in the closet.
Carrie eased out from beneath the bedcovers, her eyes on the closed bedroom door and her ears tuned to detect the presence of anyone approaching. She crouched on all fours on the bed, catlike and tense, ready to dive back under the covers at the first sound of a voice or a footstep.
But all she heard was the whir of the ceiling fan. Its downdraft was like passionate breath on her flesh. It set her nerves on edge, like…
His breath and lips on her neck…
Her body thrummed its memory.
She almost remembered something, almost captured it, but then her eyes were drawn to something in the periphery of her vision, pulling her focus away from the elusive memory. She looked to her right, to the far side of the bed.
A folded note lay on the satin covered pillow.
Anxiety and dread flooded her breast.
On that pillow might lay an answer to the question she wasn’t yet ready to ask.
As Carrie crawled across the bed she noted that the covers on the far side, while not badly disturbed, weren’t tightly made either. Had someone been in this bed with her, and maybe straightened the covers on that side before leaving? Her body thrummed that if not here, then somewhere, with someone.
As she moved she realized that the sensations in her body – that thrumming aftershock, the ache that wasn’t all unpleasant – came from more than one place. She reached back and touched her fingers to her backside, to that puckered spot.
So big…so hard…so deep.
Oh my God.
Carrie picked up the note with trembling fingers and held her breath as she flipped it open. She read it and whispered, “Oh, man…”
Just three words, written in a masculine script:
You were amazing.
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