Tempting Trouble Excerpt

Tempting Trouble, Grace (McNeil)'s story, is coming out in a week or two. I thought I'd post a sexy excerpt:
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 Grace moaned. Something was doing horribly erotic things to her ear, darting in and out, exploring, swirling, seducing. She tried to twist away from its sexual probing, but found she couldn’t move. Hands moved over her body, lips seared her skin. He was good, she thought, fighting off sleep, so clever with that tongue, so strong and tender and—she let out a scream—horribly wet. Cold water dripped down her back and legs. She forced her eyes open, still half asleep, expecting to confront some nightmarish creature frothing at the mouth, dripping all over her.

She was close. It was Lance Mercy in her bed, on her, holding her down. And he was wet from head to toe. His eyes were blazing like those of a wild beast on the attack.

Grace closed her eyes and opened them again, willing her nightmare to go away. It wasn’t one. He was still there in person. She shrieked again, trying to sit up. “How did you get in here?” Her panicked voice was hushed, husky from alcohol and sleep.

Lance sat astride her, studying her wakening horror with renewed amusement. He did like getting back at her for making him feel jealous. “Some doors can’t be dead-bolted, sweetheart,” he drawled.

She frowned, then remembered her sliding door. She called him an extremely unflattering name.

“Tsk, tsk, such language from that pretty mouth,” he chided.

“You’re wet!” She squirmed. “Get off, you…oaf!”

“I’m sorry. Here, let me get out of these wet clothes.”

Grace’s eyes widened, as she slowly comprehended his meaning. Her mouth tasted like cotton as she watched him pull his wet shirt off and toss it carelessly over his shoulder. His chest muscles were taut, revealing his mood, the movement of his bare arms tense and deliberate. She started to tremble when his hands reached for the buttons of his pants. She tried to speak but her tongue seemed to have disappeared, her eyes wildly following his hands. Finally, she just shook her head at him.

But Lance wasn’t in the mood. “You got wet from my clothes, sweetheart. Let me help you take them off.” He held on to the front of her maroon outfit and with one savage tug, tore it down almost to her waist.

Grace came alive, rearing up and catching him by surprise, pushing him off. Rolling off the bed, she scrambled out of the room, almost killing herself with only one high heel on. He hopped off and followed closely.

“Don’t think you’re going to come in here and find me soft and pliant after the way you acted out there!” Grace fumed, hobbling backwards from him.

“You didn’t expect me to be in the best of moods after the act you pulled at the function, did you?” He stalked her as she used the sofa as a buffer between them. “Did you?”

“Did I do anything you told me not to?” she challenged.

“Yes!” he hissed, walking around the sofa. She half-ran, half-stumbled to the nearby chaise lounge. “I told you not to interfere.”

“You told me to stay out of the way,” she corrected, “which I did. I kept my bloody word, so stop glaring at me! What, do you have any complaints? Didn’t you accomplish your mission?”

Using one arm, Lance vaulted over the sofa. Grace hastily retreated away from the chaise, trying to think of a way to calm a savage beast. Half-naked, his hair darkened by the rain, eyes blazing, he didn’t look anything like the suave deputy advisor to the Council of Asian Trade. Her heart thumped against her throat at the dangerous look in his eyes.

“You’re right, I did accomplish my mission,” he informed her, his eyes level, “and now I’ve come to accomplish my other one.”

She swallowed. “What’s that?” She stared at him as he kept advancing.

“I told you we would celebrate tonight.” He indicated the empty bottle on the coffee table. “Seems like you started without me.”

Grace’s back bumped into the sliding door that led to the balcony. “I wanted to be alone,” she told him, still defiant.

“And I told you I would be back later.” He was close enough to grab her. “Did you have any doubts I would?”

“Yes! I don’t want you here!” She turned, slid open the glass door, and ran out into the rain.

She was dead meat. Lance followed her, cornering her against the banister. Rain half-blinded her as he twined his fingers in her wet hair, pulling her face up to meet his.

“You have a hearing problem, love. I also told you,” he said over the drumming of the rain around them, “that game time is over, Grace. I meant it.”

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