Excerpt:
Olivia awoke slowly to feelings of a hot,
gentle breeze on her neck and cocooned within the warmth
of someone’s arms. She turned toward the soft breaths
at her nape and opened her eyes, smiling when Dylan’s
face appeared. He lay along her right side, relaxed in peaceful
slumber, similar to the way he had the morning she’d
snuck away from the hotel in Madrid.
She had no intensions of leaving this time.
Attempting to turn sideways and hug him closer, she lifted
her left arm to discover her wrist bound firmly with a necktie
to another wrist not belonging to Dylan.
Adrenaline stabbed her heart as her gaze followed the male
arm from that wrist to broad shoulders and...
Her scream would’ve registered a seven on the Richter
scale had anyone been monitoring.
Like mirror images of one another, the men came awake instantly.
Despite her panicked struggles, they faced her, pinning
her down. Their legs draped over hers. Each one shifted
onto an elbow, her bound hands going with theirs.
Her chest heaved as she fought for air and sanity.
She was seeing double...feeling double as each man placed
a palm across her middle.
“Oh, God. Ohgod, ohgodohgod. No.” She snapped
her eyes shut, opened and looked again. “This isn’t
happening.”
“Shh, puss. Calm down.”
Her gaze shot to the one on her left who spoke. “Dylan?”
He grinned with that adorable dimple in his right cheek
and bright caramel eyes. She looked from him to the other
man and back. Two pair of eyes, identical in color and exotic
slant met her gaze boldly. But the one on the left... His
hair was shorter, more like she remembered. Her heart continued
to race, her mind reeling at seeing two Dylans in bed with
her.
Lifting his hand to her face, the man on her left brushed
a thumb over her cheek and leaned down, his lips coming
within a hair’s breadth of hers.
“Beséme, Olivia,” he murmured.
Kiss me, she translated the order, as he took her mouth
in a thorough kiss. He’d said the same to her two
years ago in the same seductive way. His taste, scent, and
the feel of his lips on hers were like a dream revisited.
The touch of a hand on her breast made her moan into his
mouth. Still, he held her face with his free hand, continuing
the kiss while other fingers twirled her nipple. The other
hand cupped her breast in a warm grip that declared he had
every right to brand her as his own. Then a second mouth
captured the tip.
Heaven help her. There were two of them.
