Chandler by Laurelin Paige
A Fixed Trilogy Spinoff
Release Date: September 20th, 2016
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Synopsis:
I’m good in a boardroom, but Iβm better in the bedroom. Much better. I can charm the skirt off any woman in one encounter. I’ll even give her an orgasm before I put her in a cab. Or three. No more or sheβll start making plans for the future and I’m not into that.
Or I wasnβt until Genevive Fasbender. She’s the first woman in five years that I want to spend the whole night with. And she’s the first woman whoβs told me I’m not what she wants in a lover, even after multiple Oβs. Sheβs brash and bold and stubborn as hell, and she doesnβt believe itβs possible to satisfy her.
But Iβm up for the challenge.
And after an incident in my brotherβs office closetβa downright dirty incidentβI think Iβm just the guy to deliver.
Genevive Fasbender will never know whatβs coming.
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Excerpt:
Five minutes later, the valet pulls up with my car. Genevieve raises an eyebrow. βA Bugatti?β
Iβm so impressed she can name the model that I practically jizz in my pants. βItβs the best.β
She shakes her head, and I swear I hear her mutter something about rich men and their toys, but I donβt respond, too occupied with inspecting my car and then passing the attendant the cash I promised him earlier for returning my vehicle in perfect condition.
I slide into the driverβs seat, and when I look over at Genevieve as she buckles her seatbelt, a wave of pure, unadulterated lust rolls through me. Iβm very aware that Iβve trapped her, that sheβs now defenseless to my whims. Not that Iβd take advantage, but goddamn, to think that I couldβ¦
I nearly shiver at my own vile thoughts.
Glad she canβt know what Iβm thinking, I flash her a smile. βSo. Where am I taking you?β
βIβm staying at the Park Hyatt on 57th Street.β
βFancy.β The Park Hyatt is one of the nicest luxury hotels in New York. That means this girl has money, which isnβt a bad thing. Just, the swell of my wallet in my back pocket is usually one of my better attributes. If wealth doesnβt attract her, I hope Iβm not shit out of luck when it comes to getting an invitation up to her room.
Apparently, Iβm transparent because she asks, βNot impressed?β
βQuite the opposite. Iβm worried you wonβt have a reason to be impressed with me.β Now Iβm the one who canβt believe how honest Iβm being.
βItβs a valid worry,β she says after a beat, and I canβt tell if sheβs teasing or being blunt. Canβt tell if I should prepare for gut-wrenching disappointment or dive into another round of sexy banter.
I concentrate on my driving instead, speeding up before slipping expertly into a tight opening in the adjacent lane.
Iβll admit Iβm showing off.
βSmashing,β she says with a tone that vibrates through my body like Iβm a tuning fork.
Then, abruptly, she laughs, and I turn my head toward her, alarmed at the source of her amusement.
βI still canβt believe you drive a Bugatti in the city. I canβt decide if that makes you brilliant or as mad as a bag of ferrets.β
βBrilliant, of course.β Though, with her so close, I feel more like Iβm going crazy. βWhat can I say? I like things that are fast.β
βOf course you do.β
βYou donβt?β I raise a questioning brow. βMaybe you donβt understand how awesome fast can be.β I put my foot on the gas and race down the next block to prove my point.
The traffic light turns red as I approach the intersection, and I ease the brakes. βSee? Fast is fun.β
βThe problem with fast is itβs over too quickly.β
Is that innuendo? Her gaze pierces into me, and the air around us feels tight and charged, and Iβm suddenly certain that I will die if I donβt get to taste her tonight.
Even if she didnβt mean anything more when she made her statement, I certainly do when I say, βDonβt worry. I know when to take my time.β
She exhales, slowly, and I swear I can feel it. As though sheβs already in my arms and her breath is grazing every inch of my bare skin. No matter what happens after this, I know she at least feels thisβ¦this attraction. Or whatever it is.
Her voice is low and sultry when she replies. βYouβre not talking about cars anymore. But do you really take your time? Iβd guess you bolt the minute youβre finished.β Sheβs so blunt, so direct, and I donβt know if itβs a her thing or an English thing, but I like it.
I also like this conversation weβre having. Because weβre drawing the lines, and that means the potential for tonight is high. So I answer with a nod, making sure she understands that sheβs correct in thinking Iβll bolt. Because I will.
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About the Author:
Laurelin Paige is the NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Fixed Trilogy. She’s a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters.
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