Monica Murphy - Torn

“What is this?” I take the wadded-up fabric from his hand, our fingers accidentally brushing, and heat rushes through me at first contact.

“One of my T-shirts.” He shrugs those broad shoulders, which are still encased in fine white cotton. “I know you didn’t have anything to wear to . . . bed. Thought I could offer you this.”

His eyes darken at the word bed and my knees wobble. Good lord, what this man is doing to me is so completely foreign, I’m not quite sure how to react.

“Um, thanks. I appreciate it.” The T-shirt is soft, the fabric thin, as if it’s been worn plenty of times, and I have the sudden urge to hold it to my nose and inhale. See if I can somehow smell his scent lingering in the fabric.

The man is clearly turning me into a freak of epic proportions.

“You’re welcome.” He leans his tall body against the doorframe, looking sleepy and rumpled and way too sexy for words. I want to grab his hand and yank him into my room.

Wait, no I don’t. That’s a bad—terrible—idea.

Liar.

“Is that all then?” I ask, because we don’t need to be standing here having this conversation. First, my brother could find us and start in again on what a mistake we are. Second, I’m growing increasingly uncomfortable with the fact that I’m completely naked beneath the robe. Third, I’m still contemplating shedding the robe and showing Archer just how naked I am.

“Yeah. Guess so.” His voice is rough and he pushes away from the doorframe. “Well. Good night.”

“Good night,” I whisper, but I don’t shut the door. I don’t move.

Neither does he.

“Ivy . . .” His voice trails off and he clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. Which is hot. Oh my God, everything he does is hot and I decide to give in to my impulses, because screw it.

I want him.

Archer

LIKE AN IDIOT, I can’t come up with anything to say. It’s like my throat is clogged, and I can hardly force a sound out, what with Ivy standing before me, her long, wavy, dark hair tumbling past her shoulders, her slender body engulfed in the thick white robe I keep for guests. The very same type of robe we provide at Hush.

But then she does something so surprising—so amazingly awesome—I’m momentarily dumbfounded by the sight.

Her slender hands go for the belt of the robe and she undoes it quickly, the fabric parting, revealing bare skin. Completely bare skin.

Holy shit. She’s naked. And she just dumped the robe onto the ground so she’s standing in front of me. Again, I must stress, naked.

My mouth drops open, a rough sound coming from low in my throat. Damn, she’s gorgeous. All long legs and curvy waist and hips and full breasts topped with pretty pink nipples. I’m completely entranced for a long, agonizing moment. All I can do is gape at her.

“Well, are you just going to stand there and wait for my brother to come back out and find us like this or are you going to come inside my room?”

Bryn

“I SHOULDN’T DO this.” He’s coming right at me, one determined step after another, and I slowly start to back up, fear and excitement bubbling up inside me, making it hard to think clearly.

“Shouldn’t do what?”

I lift my chin, my gaze meeting his, and I see all the turbulent, confusing emotions in his eyes, the grim set of his jaw and usually lush mouth. The man means business—what sort of business I’m not exactly sure, but I can take a guess. Increasing my pace, I take hurried backward steps to get away from all that handsome intensity coming at me until my butt meets the wall.

I’m trapped. And in the best possible place too.

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all night,” he practically growls, stopping just in front of me.

I have? I want to ask, but I keep my lips clamped tight. He never seems to notice me, not that I ever really want him to. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself. That sort of thing usually brings too much unwanted attention. I’ve dealt with that sort of trouble before, and it nearly destroyed me.

The more time I spend with my boss though, the more I want him to see me. Really see me as a woman. Not the dependable, efficiently organized Miss James who makes his life so much easier.

I want Matt to see me as a woman. A woman he wants.

Playing with fire . . .

The thought floating through my brain is apt, considering the potent heat in Matt’s gaze.

“I don’t understand how I could be, considering I’ve done nothing but work my tail off the entire evening,” I retort, wincing the moment the words leave me. I blame my mounting frustration over our situation. I’m tired, I’ve done nothing but live and breathe this winery opening for the last few weeks, and I’m ready to go home and crawl into bed. Pull the covers over my head and sleep for a month.

But if a certain someone wanted to join me in my bed, there wouldn’t be any sleeping involved. Just plenty of nakedness and kissing and hot, delicious sex . . .

My entire body flushes at the thought.

“And I appreciate you working that pretty tail of yours off for me. Though I’d hate to see it go,” he drawls, his gaze dropping low. Like he’s actually trying to check out my backside. His flirtatious tone shocks me, rendering me still.

Our relationship isn’t like this. Strictly professional is how Matt and I keep it between us. But that last remark was most definitely what I would consider flirting. And the way he’s looking at me . . .

Oh. My.

My cheeks warm when he stops directly in front of me. I can feel his body heat, smell his intoxicating scent, and I press my lips together to keep from saying something really stupid.

God, I want you. So bad my entire body aches for your touch.

Yeah. I sound like those romance novels I used to devour when I had more time to freaking read. I always thought those emotions were so exaggerated. No way could what happens in a romance novel actually occur in real life.

But I’m feeling it. Right now. With Matthew DeLuca. And the way he’s looking at me almost makes me think he might be feeling it too.

“So um, h-how have I been driving you crazy?” I swallow hard. I sound like a stuttering idiot, and I’m trying to calm my racing heart but it’s no use. We’re staring at each other in silence, the only sound our accelerated breathing, and then he reaches out. Rests his fingers against my cheek. Lets them drift along my face.

Slowly I close my eyes and part my lips, sharp pleasure piercing through me at his intimate touch. I curl my fingers against the wall as if I can grab onto it, afraid I might slide to the ground if I don’t get a grip and soon. I can smell him. Feel him. We’ve been close to each other before, but not like this. Never like this.

“You look so damn beautiful tonight,” he whispers, his rough voice sending a scatter of goose bumps across my skin.

“Thank you.” I crack open my eyes to find he’s moved even closer, one hand braced against the wall, the other still touching my face. Tilting my head back, I meet his gaze, my lids flickering when he strokes his thumb across my lower lip.

“It’s taking everything inside of me not to just give in and kiss you,” he admits gruffly, his hot eyes roaming over my face, then dropping lower, settling on my chest. I can feel my nipples tighten beneath the silk fabric of my dress and I’m suddenly, achingly aware of what little clothing I’m wearing. No bra, no panties . . .

My dress is the only barrier between Matt’s hands and my skin.

“What’s stopping you?” I reach out, slip my fingers down the length of his black tie. I can’t believe I just said that. I can’t believe I’m touching him, though really I’m only caressing his tie. Big deal.

But I can feel all that hot, hard strength beneath his shirt, the beat of his heart, the scent of his skin. Relief floods me. We’ve been dancing around this attraction for months and it feels like we’re finally giving in. Well, I’ve been dancing around it. He always seemed mostly oblivious to me.

Maybe he isn’t. If his current behavior is any indication, he definitely isn’t.

“I’m stopping me. Or at least I should be,” he says, resting both of his hands on my waist as he steps so close, our legs tangle, our chests brush. I hold my breath, waiting for what I know will be a totally disappointing answer.

He doesn’t answer at all. Instead, he lowers his head, his mouth settling on mine, softly. Sweetly. His kiss obliterates everything, all of my thoughts, until I’m consumed with the sound and the feel and the smell of him. He surrounds me, consumes me, and when he thrusts his tongue deep inside my mouth, I’m lost.

And only Matt will be able to find me.

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author MONICA MURPHY is a native Californian who lives in the foothills below Yosemite. A wife and mother of three, she writes new adult and contemporary romance. Visit her online at www.monicamurphyauthor.com and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/MonicaMurphyAuthor.

Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

When a stranger arrives in town on a vintage motorcycle, Jill Carpenter has no idea her life is about to change forever. She never expected that her own personal knight in shining armor would be an incredibly charming and handsome southern man—but one with a deep secret. When Jill’s dreams of becoming an Olympic equestrian start coming true, Chase’s past finally returns to haunt him. Can they get beyond dreams to find the love that will rescue their two hearts? Find out in the follow-up to The Rancher and the Rock Star.