Hero: Ezekiel Steele. A security guard for the House of Payne. Feels dead inside and unable to love. Until he meets Essie.

Heroine: Essie Santiago. Brutalized when she was sixteen. Eight years later she has defied the odds and is now competing in a reality tv contest to become a designer for the House of Payne. For the first time since she was attacked, a man interests her.

His smile was brilliant enough to light up the entire complex. Then, while she was still trying to recover from that, he moved in to brush his mouth against hers. “I was hoping I’d get a chance to teach you a few things tonight. I’ve decided we need to start with some basics.”

Her surging excitement fizzled. That sounded utterly harmless. “Don’t you need a stick?”

“Don’t you worry about my stick, sweetness. It’ll get taken care of eventually. Right now this is all about you.”

Oh my.

The way he said stick was downright scandalous.

Maybe his statement wasn’t that harmless after all.

Her excitement started to climb its way back up. “How do we begin?”

“The beginning’s always the most important part, with the exception of the finish. One wrong move and you’re done before you even had a chance to take a winning shot.” Positioning himself behind her and to her left, his hand went to the place between her shoulder blades. He gently pushed her forward toward the table’s felt top, while his other hand coaxed her to bring the stick up. The heat of his hand against her spine branded her skin, and the sizzling sensation made her breath catch. “Don’t be too stiff, baby. Just relax. Let me get you to where you need to be. Trust me, Essie?”

Her throat was so dry she had to swallow to speak. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” His arms came around her, and her heart tried to beat her to death. His body heat was intoxicating, and when the hand at her back reached up to flick her hair to one side so he could nestle his chin against her shoulder, she may have whimpered silently. “Now, before we get started, I need to say something. In this game, the stick has to be used. You know that, right?”

The stick again.

Oh, man.

“Mm-hm.”

“Nothing that’s truly, deeply exciting can happen without the stick, but that’s nothing to be afraid of, sweetness. You got my word on that.”

Her entire body blushed. “I’m not afraid.”

“No?”

“No. I’m just new to this. I’ve… I’ve never voluntarily played before.”

“I get that. It means a hell of a lot to me that you’re willing to learn how to play now.” His face turned into the side of her head, and she closed her eyes when the lobe of her ear was caught between his teeth and sucked into the wet chamber of his mouth to be expertly toyed with.

Her knees threatened imminent meltdown, her pelvic muscles tightened in a way that made her want to squirm, and she didn’t even know what the hell was going on in her panties. The only thing she did know was that if this was how billiards was played, she was now a lifelong fan.

“You’re doing so well.” His mouth blazed a caressing trail to behind her ear, where he paused to taste her with his tongue. “I’m proud of you, you know that?”

“I haven’t done anything.” Oh yay, she could still put a sentence together. Maybe her brain hadn’t melted after all.

“You’ve done so much already, just by letting me get this close to you. I’m going to get even closer now so I can show you how to get a good, long stroke of the stick. Get ready.”

Oh, Lord have mercy…

She bit her lip as the hand at her back traveled to her hip, trying to stifle a moan as a swelling throb pulsed between her legs. She squeezed her upper thighs together to alleviate the achy pressure, but that only made it worse. Then he slowly flattened his chest against her back, distracting her from the unbelievable dampness of her panties. His weight kept increasing, as did the body contact. Before she knew it, she couldn’t focus on anything but the spectacular miracle that they fit together in this position like a couple of spoons, despite their size difference. Of course, he was the bigger spoon. Much bigger…

Much.
Bigger.
Whoa.

Her breathing squeezed to a halt as she registered the stiffness pressed to the curve of her ass. For a full five seconds her brain shot into wild trigonometry calculations to figure out just how big that stiffness was, and where exactly it was coming from, on the off-chance that he somehow had either a heavy-duty pipe wrench or perhaps a summer sausage in his pocket.

But she knew what it was.

His size fourteen shoes hadn’t lied.

Wowie.

Heh. I never played a game of pool like THAT. Whew.

House of Payne: Steele (House of Payne #5) by Stacy Gail is available for purchase now.

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