Don't forget to visit all the fabulous writers participating in this week's hop. Just click on the link above and read their snippets from a 'sexual tension' scene.
My excerpt is from Decadent Deceptions, a RWA Molly Contest Finalist!
Setup: There's a serial killer on the loose in this erotic historical novel, and he has his sights on our heroine Olivia. Morgan, our alpha hero, and the man who's loved Olivia for over a decade, must stay one step ahead of the killer before the evil man strikes again.
Excerpt: Morgan arrives in the garden to let Olivia know he's made arrangements to visit L’ Amour Immortelles Friday night.
* * *Morgan peered between the branches of a hickory. Dressed in a fashionable lavender gown and displaying an ample amount of cleavage, Olivia was perched on a bench near her mother’s prized roses. He closed his eyes against the beauty that brought men up short, him included. A familiar, piquant mixture of jasmine and white tea blossoms wafted around him, more potent than poisonous vapors infused by a viper’s fangs. Unbeknown to the confounded woman, her secret weapon brought him to his knees after one teensy whiff.
An overt clearing of his throat prompted her to place the book she was reading in her lap. She folded her slender hands and looked up at him. "Morgan, I assume you bring good news?"
He longed to slap that smug look from her face. "Indeed, I have fulfilled my obligation, met with Madame Rousseau."
Her eyes grew wide. "And?"
"Everything is arranged. I insist on accompanying you the first time."
"The first time?" She blinked and came to her feet while placing the book on the bench. "Does that mean you’ve scheduled more than one appointment?"
With acid amusement he said, "One can hardly choose a husband after one showing. I assumed—"
She stepped toward him with a devastating smile. "I knew I could count on you, knew you’d understand."
Loath to admit it, he did empathize. Placed in her situation, he’d insist on doing the same, but it irked him beyond imagination that in two days those angelic eyes would feast upon strangers fornicating. Among other things.
He bowed slightly, straightened and waited for her to speak again.
"I’m forever in your debt, eternally grateful."
His breathing had returned to normal and he managed to respond. "Yes, well, think nothing of it. How do you plan to disguise yourself?"
"Oh," she said. "That’s the corker! Cain suggested I attire myself in men’s clothing and I couldn’t agree more. My best chance of not being recognized is to wear men’s clothing." Acknowledging the little choking noise from his throat, she looked at him sharply. "Are you all right, Morgan? What’s the matter, don’t you think it’s a splendid idea?"
How could he tell her it had nothing to do with what she would wear, but rather the impending image of her peering through that little peephole? He rocked back on his heels and said, "Leave it to our little ingenious Cain."
"What day will you arrive to escort me?"
"Friday evening, say, nine o’clock?"
An instant blush found her cheeks, and he had the strange feeling she had conjured an erotic image in her mind. "Will you be staying with me the entire time or . . . ?"
"No," he said with a knife-edged finality. "I’ll escort you to Madame Rousseau’s suite and she’ll manage the rest."
"You told her to expect a woman?"
He ground the words out. "Yes, she will expect a woman of the gentry who desires to observe an amorous liaison."
Her tone grateful she asked, "What did it cost, Morgan? You need only tell me what you paid and I’ll reimburse you on Friday."
He dismissed her question with a wave of his hand. He didn’t want her damn money. If she ever found out it fattened his pocketbook, there would be hell to pay.
"Oh no you don’t, dear friend. I can’t possibly allow you to pay for my shameless inquisitiveness."
Dear friend? Wielding a dull knife to cut out his heart to serve it à la friteuse would have sufficed. "Is that what you call it? Your inquisitiveness? I thought it fell more along the lines of depravity."
Green eyes narrowed. "You don’t approve after all?"
With another wave of his hand, he forged ahead. "Forget it, it doesn’t matter whether I approve or not. I gave my word to Cain I’d see it through to the end whether or not you’re shocked out of your pristine bloomers."
Her delicate chin tilted up. "I assure you, I’ve seen it all."
"Is that so? Where?"
"Books. You do remember my father has an extensive library, including a vast collection of nude pictorials . . . French and Italian."
With a sick knot in his stomach, he met her gaze, "One hundred dollars."
"One hundred dollars to observe fornication."
* * *
More about DECADENT DECEPTIONS here: