Sam can’t believe it when the gorgeous new bird in editorial turns out to be a virgin – one amenable to him changing that for her. It’s an even more pleasant surprise when the chemistry between them is incendiary. There’s no way he’s letting her get away from him. Enjoy this snippet. Hard Love is out now.
She rushed off the train when it stopped, running to her building and shifting from foot to foot as she rode the elevator to her studio. She was practically sobbing as she put her key in the lock, but once she was safely on the other side of the door, with the bolts firmly shut against the world, she sank to the floor and closed her eyes in relief.
She was safe.
She sat there until her heart beat slowed, until her breathing was normal again and her hands were no longer shaking. Then she put her groceries away and stripped. She upended her bag into the hamper, fished out her toiletries, then added everything she’d worn home. She stood naked, watching the tub fill, then added a generous slug of bubbles, for once damning economy. If now wasn’t a time for a little bit extra to soothe her nerves she didn’t know what was.
She winced a little when she sat in the hot water; her flesh felt tender. Thankfully it faded quickly and she dunked her hair, wanting to be completely clean, to not smell him on her. She had once or twice on the way home, as though he’d soaked into her pores. She sighed. At least the urge to cry had dried up.
She already felt better. She spent too long in his company, and his personality was too strong. On top of the sex – she shook her head. It was too much.
God, the water felt good. Slowly, she began to relax. She lounged until her eye lids got heavy, then gave herself a quick wash. She thought seriously about refilling the tub with hot water, but she was too tired. That’s all she needed was to drown after being damn near fucked to death by her heartless boss.
She jerked in the water, her heart speeding up. Someone knocked again, impatiently.
“Wrong apartment,” she called out, rinsing quickly. It happened occasionally. She was right by the elevator. Drunk people had confused her with her neighbor across the hall a few times.
“Open this fucking door, Laurel.”
Sam! She rose, nearly slipping in her rush to get out of the tub. How had he gotten in? What the hell did that matter? He was here now.
“Laurel, open this door. Don’t make me piss off your neighbors.”
She wrapped her soaking hair and threw on her robe, a ratty terry cloth thing she’d had for ages that was never supposed to see company but kept her wonderfully warm. Typical Sam to have her at a complete disadvantage. She nursed this anger as she opened her locks.
He tried to push past her immediately. She blocked him.
“What the fuck?”
Good, he was pissed.
“I might say the same thing. It’s kind of late for a visit.”