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Synopsis
Theresa Drazen can have plenty of guys, but the one she can't keep away from....the one she's just about addicted to, is more than forbidden. With felony-black eyes and a mouth built for lies, loving him is one step away from illegal.
But her body keeps overriding her brain. Maybe it's time to stop playing by the rules.
-------
Antonio is obsessed. Theresa's the last woman he should touch. She's going to get him killed. She's dangerous. Poison. The wrong woman.
Except...she's perfect.
And they both figure...one more time. Just one more time.
One more time and they won't get caught.
One more time and they won't get killed.
One.
More.
Time.......
Excerpt
Copyright © 2014
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the
United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the
material or artwork herein is prohibited.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to
real places, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Cover Art designed by the author
“Listen!” I yanked back at his hand at the bottom of
the stairs, but he yanked me and swung me through a doorway.
The choir dressing room was ancient with wooden
lockers built in the Depression. So, when he pushed me against them, there
wasn’t a clatter of sheet metal, but a thunk as they rattled.
Antonio grabbed me by the wrists, locking them
together in two fingers and holding them over my head.
“You think I’m worried about him?” He put his finger
to my face. “I spend not one minute of my life thinking about that man with
you. He’s not even a man. He’s not worthy of you. He’s one of a thousand rats
on the bottom of a sinking ship.”
“Then what’s the problem?” My question came out in a
gasp because my body gravitated toward him, arching to press against him, just
as he arched in the opposite curve to keep his face close to mine.
“Why did you see him?” I could have kissed him, but I
moved my head against the locker door, turning my face toward the arched
lead-glass window. I wanted him, not in spite of his anger but because of it.
“He went to Katrina. His team grilled her, and I don’t
like it.”
“What did they grill her about?”
He knew damn well, but he wasn’t going to assume. I
noticed that about him. He never assumed anything or jumped to a conclusion.
“You,” I whispered.
“Me.”
“You.”
“And you told him what?” he said.
“To stop. To leave you alone. That if he didn’t, I had
enough on him to make his life a living hell.”
“Do you think you maybe should talk to me first,
before you do crazy shit?”
“No.” I twisted and pulled my hands down. He let them
go but increased his weight on me, pushing me against the lockers. “You barely
let me out of an apartment that’s not even mine. I highly doubt you’d let me
see Daniel.”
“Because it’s stupid and dangerous.”
“It’s what I have to give. And it’s useful to you. And
go to hell if you don’t like it. I will never, ever sit still while he’s after
you.”
“I’m already going to hell. Grazie.”
I pushed him away, and he grabbed my jaw, holding me
still while he put his nose next to mine and spoke into my mouth. “You’re a
loaded gun. Do you see that? You’re from a different world, but you smell like
home to me. I haven’t been to Napoli in ten years, but whenever you’re near me,
I smell olive flowers. My heart gets sick with thirst, but the water is
poison.”
“Antonio—”
“I’m drowning, Contessa.”
“What are you talking about?”
His face got tight, holding back a flood of emotion.
His fingers pressed harder on my face until I took hold of his wrist, pulling
it down. He let go.
“Talk to me,” I said. “Just tell me.”
He looked confused for a second. Overwhelmed. Then, as
if the dam had burst, he wrapped his arms around me and put his mouth to mine.
It happened so quickly that I didn’t kiss him back at first. I couldn’t
breathe; he held me so tight, but I got my arms around him and my mouth open,
pulling him close, pushing as much of myself as I could into whatever part of
him was within my reach. Thighs, hips, hands, shoulders, lips bashing lips,
tongues forceful on tongues. It wasn’t even a kiss, or at least, not like one
I’d ever had before. It was a slap, a punch, the use of force, a coercion of
two worlds into uncomfortable cohesion.
The kiss never got soft and only ended when he jerked
himself away.
“Talk to me,” I said in a breath.
“The thing I want most is the only thing between me
and getting it. You are everything that will destroy me. I should go back to
who I was. But you made me dream I could be free, when I’d forgotten I was in
prison.”
“Is this about you being honest? Is it about me seeing
Daniel? Antonio. If I hurt you, just tell me how. Let me make it right. Let me
help you get out.”
He caressed my face with both palms with a tenderness
that shouldn’t have been able to contain such intensity.
“Sweet olive blossoms,” he said. “That was God’s
message to me.” He stepped away, and the space between us became a sigh. He
held his hand. “The only way out is through.”
Meet the Author
CD (Christine) Reiss
CD Reiss is a USA Today and Amazon bestseller. She still has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she doesn’t pick up, she’s at the well, hauling buckets.
Born in New York City, she moved to Hollywood, California to get her master’s degree in screenwriting from USC. In case you want to know, that went nowhere, but it did embed TV story structure in her head well enough for her to take a big risk on a TV series structured erotic series called Songs of Submission. It’s about a kinky billionaire hung up on his ex-wife, an ingenue singer with a wisecracking mouth; art, music and sin in the city of Los Angeles.
Critics have dubbed the books “poetic,” “literary,” and “hauntingly atmospheric,” which is flattering enough for her to put it in a bio, but embarrassing enough for her not to tell her husband, or he might think she’s some sort of braggart who’s too good to give the toilets a once-over every couple of weeks or chop a cord of wood.
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