I’m a one draft writer. I don’t have cut scenes. At all. Except…for a super basic mistake that I made in my first book, Carolina Heat. My first draft of that one included a chapter (‘a’ as in single, in a 24 chapter book) in the POV of a secondary character. Luckily, my editor kindly explained why that wouldn’t work. But it was a super hot makeout scene, so I’ve always been disappointed that it didn’t get to see the light of day….until now!
“Oh, you’re unbelievable! You can’t just give me a compliment and let it lie? You had to get in one more dig about how you worked harder than me. Well, you know what, Ashby? In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re almost a foot taller than me. So no, I don’t feel badly about making you do a little more than your fair share of the heavy lifting on today’s agenda.”
To his complete surprise, she bent her knee and kicked him in the shin. But her foot barely connected with his leg before his hand whipped out and grabbed her ankle.
“Don’t.” He ground out the word between clenched teeth.
She wobbled a bit, but thanks to years of ballet kept her balance. “Are you so afraid of the damage a pair of size five Nikes can do?” she taunted.
“Jillian, I’m warning you. When I let go, put your foot down and go home. You don’t know what you’re dealing with here.” His kept his voice low, and he couldn’t meet her eyes. The tightly coiled leash on his temper was stretched to the limit.
“The way you tell it, I’m dealing with a shell of a man, a mere husk. A weak, exhausted lump who can’t even get off the floor,” she mocked. “Have to tell you, I’m not too concerned.”
His head jerked up. “Sweetheart, I don’t need to get off the floor.” He tugged at her leg and with a cry she fell to the floor. She landed practically on his lap, legs splayed across his.
“Look at that – everything I need is right down here with me.” Ashby kept his gaze firmly locked on hers as he unbuckled his tool belt and shoved it against the wall. Slowly he angled his upper body towards her. Jillian leaned back in response, and her arms shot out to the sides to support her.
She’d been so sure he didn’t notice her as a woman. That he saw her as nothing more than the tag along third musketeer. A pal, a buddy, one of the gang. Jillian was positive he’d ignored the weeks spent practically throwing herself at him. Shorter skirts, lower cut tops, perfume, coy sidelong glances had done nothing. Or so she thought until this moment.
The hard glint in his eyes surprised her. It was a look she’d never seen from the easy going Ashby. She was caught completely off guard by the transformation. His blue eyes burned with a simmering heat.
Her head whirled with the abrupt change of dynamics in the room. At this point she had no idea what was going on, but it was clear Ashby wholly in command of the situation. She didn’t even feel the pain of her collision with the floor. She was hypnotized by Ashby’s slow advancement towards her.
With hands on her shoulders Ashby pushed her slowly back until she was flat on the floor. He moved his hands to either side of her head and hovered there, his entire body just inches above hers. His biceps shook with the strain from the punishment they’d received all day.
“I didn’t plan this, Jillian.” His voice was rough and low, practically a growl. “Tried like crazy to keep my distance from you. But I can’t do it anymore. You pushed one too many buttons, sweetheart. And there’s no turning back.”
Jillian quivered in a mixture of anticipation and flat out shock. None of the possible scenarios she’d imagined with him were anything like this. This was a primal, commanding side of Ashby. All of her anger, her weeks of flirtatious games and romantic hopes vanished. The two of them were stripped down to the basic, instinctual pull between a man and a woman.
His mouth devoured her. There was no other way to describe it. He ate her up in small nips along her jaw, over to her ear, but always returned to her lips. She lay still in pure shock. His kisses were practiced and masterful and overwhelming. Jillian had no compunction about admitting her list of paramours was rather lengthy. But the sheer power and passion pouring out of Ashby was nothing she’d felt with any other man. In a matter of seconds her shock turned to delight.
One part of his mind registered the moment her body turned soft beneath his. The smell of her perfume coiled around him like a silken noose. It pulled him closer until every inch of their bodies was touching. And he gave in to all the lust coiled deep within him.
They began to connect in every way possible; ankles entwined, hands caressing, and hips sliding back and forth to find the tightest possible fit. But he was fueled by pure need, and her response in no way gentled his approach. This wasn’t the time for pretty compliments and loving caresses. His blood was on fire, and Jillian was the cause. So she was just going to have to come along for the ride.
He molded her breast under his hand and her reciprocal moan was almost his undoing. “Jilly,” he whispered hoarsely against her neck, “I’m giving you one chance. I tried to ignore it, but I want you so damn badly. I want to take you, right now, right here on the floor, and not stop until I’m buried deep inside you, and make you scream with pleasure.” While he spoke he worked his hands under her hips and squeezed them even closer together.
His words alone made her tremble with excitement. Electric bursts of sensation were exploding everywhere he touched, everywhere their bodies were joined. It was like having firecrackers going off underneath her skin, and each tiny explosion connected to the aching hollow between her legs that cradled him so well.
“Ashby, you idiot,” she gasped. “I want this as much as you do. Stop talking already and do everything to me you just promised.”
His lips curved into a devilish smile. “You won’t regret it, sweetheart.”
It was a sensory onslaught. His passion of only moments before was a pale shadow of the unbridled desire he unleashed upon her. His mouth engulfed her breast, the wet heat penetrating her thin t-shirt. Jillian felt her eyes roll back in her head as his teeth grazed her nipple. She clawed at his shirt, desperate to feel skin against skin.
Equally impatient, Ashby rolled to the side and propped himself on one hip. In a flash he tugged off both of their shirts and tossed them across the room. He knew he’d later regret not taking the time to drink in his first look at her body. She was golden and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, and the sight of her even with her bra still on was enough to knock the air out of him. But there wasn’t time. Right now there was only touching and taking and having and with a groan he rolled back on top of her.
“You’re driving me crazy.”
“Ashby, don’t make me wait,” she begged. His mouth moved greedily over hers again as her hips undulated brazenly against him in an age old mating dance. His hands were everywhere at once, inflaming both of them. He reached for the waistband of his shorts.
Then the opening licks of Born to Run jangled from his pocket.