BLOG TOUR - EXCERPT! Lost With Me by J. Kenner
Release Date: October 23, 2018
His touch takes my breath away. Our passion feeds my soul...
Damien Stark is back!
Lost With Me, a new full-length novel in the wildly popular Stark Saga from New York Times bestselling author J. Kenner, is LIVE!
From New York Times and #1 International bestselling author J. Kenner comes a new full-length novel in the wildly popular Stark Saga that’s left millions of readers breathless.
His touch takes my breath away. Our passion feeds my soul...
My love for Damien fills me, and the intensity of our bond brings me to my knees. There is no burden I wouldn’t bear for him, no decadent punishment to which I won’t submit.
The dark days seemingly behind us, we have carved a life out of adversity, chiseling away pain to reveal strength and beauty. Now, all I want is to laugh with our children in the sunlight, then surrender myself to Damien’s embrace in the dark.
But lingering secrets and hidden menace threaten our family. Now, Damien and I must forge a new strength from our shared passion and hope the fire between us will burn away the darkness and protect everything we hold most dear.
This sexy, emotionally charged romance continues the story of Damien Stark, the powerful billionaire who’s never had to take “no” for an answer, and his beloved wife Nikki Fairchild Stark.
PURCHASE HERE:
He eases me back so that my body is flush against his,
and I close my eyes, losing myself in the way his touch makes me feel even
while fighting the urge to step away. To tell him to stop. That we’re in
public, and we can’t do this.
But I don’t. I stay, and as I close my eyes in acceptance
of my own desires, I hear his low, soft moan of satisfaction and feel the swell
of his erection against my lower back, his arousal growing with my
acquiescence.
Mine, too.
Because while I may not want to be the kind of woman who
gets turned on by her lover’s touch in a public gallery, I can’t deny the heat
building between my thighs any more than I can deny the basic truth that where
Damien is concerned, there are no limits. Not because I have none, but because
he knows how to take me right to the edge. To make me breathless and needy and
desperate. But never to push too far.
I’d changed before meeting Jamie for lunch, and now I’m
wearing a knit tank that hugs my body and a wrap style skirt that fastens with
a single button at my hip. His hands are pressed against the curve of my waist,
the heat of contact burning through the black knit of my top. I make a small
move as if to turn around, but he tightens his grip, his utterance of noso soft
that I may have only imagined it.
But I know I’m not imagining the motion of his hands as
he slowly eases them up my body, making my heart beat faster with each
millimeter of progress higher and higher. My breath is shallow, and I whisper
his name, “Damien,” not certain if I’m acknowledging the moment, pleading with
him to stop, or begging him to continue.
His hands curve under my breasts, his palms lifting them
as he presses his thumbs down until my nipples are pinched tight between his
thumbs and forefingers. He increases the pressure, and I suck in air, squeezing
my legs together, my clit throbbing as I bite my lower lip and fight the urge
to surrender to the heat that is building inside me.
“You’re wondering if it’s pleasure she’s feeling,” he
says, and my mind has traveled so far from these walls that it takes me a
moment to realize that he’s referring to the woman in Blaine’s painting.
“Pleasure or embarrassment,” he adds as his right hand eases lower, his fingers
finding the flap of material where the ends of the skirt overlap.
He slips his hand in, his palm sliding over the brushed
cotton, his fingers slowly tugging the interior layer toward him. It bunches
within his hand, and I bite back a gasp when his fingertips graze the bare skin
of my thigh. “Was she turned on by the knowledge that so many would see her
portrait?”
His fingers slowly ease higher, closer and closer to my
bare sex. I bite my lower lip and close my eyes, my entire body aching with
need, craving his touch. I can imagine his hand cupping my sex, his fingers
sliding inside as his lips brush my ear while he whispers to me, his sensual
words making my imagination soar as my body quivers and tightens and explodes
around him, and taste blood from biting down so hard to keep from crying out.
I imagine all of that. Craving it. Desperate for it.
And at the same time terrified of it.
“Not here,” I murmur, resting my hand over my skirt. Over
his hand. “Not now.”
His fingers still, but he inches closer, his heat burning
into my body, the beat of his heart reverberating through me.
“I got your note. And your present.” His whisper rumbles
through me, his words making me even more aware that I’m bare beneath this
skirt. “I missed you by just ten minutes.”
“How did you find me?”
“I have my ways. And I’m willing to use all my resources
to get what I want.”
There’s a tease in his voice, and I smile in realization
and amusement. Because it didn’t actually take too many resources. Just the app
that’s installed on both our phones as well as our cars—and Bree’s, of course,
in case we need to find her and the kids.
He would have checked his phone, seen that I’d parked in
Beverly Hills, and remembered that I was going to check on the girls’ cakes
today. Presumably he was following my route and saw me step in here.
“Do you really think I need a tracking device to find
you?” he counters, after I tell him all that. “Don’t you know that you’re
always in my heart, and how can I lose track of that?”
I smile and sigh happily, his words delighting me. And,
who knows. Maybe it’s true. My husband is a remarkable man.
“I wanted to see you.” There’s a tone of finality in his
voice. As if the details simply don’t matter.
As if his will alone is enough to find me.
Maybe it is.
“To touch you.” The fingers of his hand that still cup my
breast tighten on my nipple, sending a new shock of desire running down to my
core.
“I wanted to know if you’re still bare, or if you’ve put
on a fresh pair of panties.” His hand stays perfectly still, but, damn me, I
relax the pressure of my own hand that’s been keeping his in check.
“We can’t.” It’s a public gallery. Anyone could come in.
But even as I think that, my eyes roam the room. The section we’re in has no
windows. And the gallery is empty and echoey, with a bell over the door. We’re
alone, except for Emily. And if she came this way her heels will undoubtedly
click on the floor, giving us plenty of warning.
The thought—the fantasy—makes my body tighten. “We
can’t,” I repeat, as much to underscore the point as to remind myself of that
very basic truth.
“No?” His mouth brushes my ear, his breath disturbing my
hair and sending shivers down my spine. “What if I told you that Emily was busy
at her computer. That she’s locked the door for lunch. That I’m certain we
won’t be seen.”
I swallow and say nothing, afraid that if I speak, my
desire will betray my common sense.
“She won’t want to disturb us. Not when we might be
contemplating a purchase. Destroy the moment, and she could lose a sale. She
knows that. Knows that a client needs to get lost in the art. In the moment.”
His thumb has been making small circles on my breast, and
my heart is beating so hard now that I’m surprised Emily can’t hear its echo on
the far side of the gallery. On my legs, his fingers move subtly. Not rising,
but neither are they still. Instead, his fingertips brush my bare flesh in
sensual movements designed to entice and tease.
“What do you want, Nikki?” His words are as tender
against my flesh as his fingers. “Do you want me to move higher, millimeter by
millimeter, up your wet thighs as you hold your breath in anticipation? Would
you cry out if I stroked your clit, unable to hold back the explosion?
“Or maybe I shouldn’t stroke you there at all. Maybe I
should slide my fingers deep inside you. Feel how slick you are, the way your
body will clench around me, drawing me in as I use my thumb to tease around
your clit. Never quite touching, but drawing you up and up, until you can’t
take it anymore.”
I can’t take it right now, and I’m certain he knows it. I
want to tell him to stop—except I don’t want him to stop.
And so all I do is whisper his name. A plea. A prayer.
“Damien.”
“That’s right, baby.” I hear heat in his low, melodic
voice, a passion now equal to my own. “Would you scream my name when you
explode? Or would you be so quiet as you tremble in my arms, that I’d be the
only one who knows the force of your orgasm rocking through you?
I’m trembling now, so close to the explosion he’s
describing that my skin seems to sizzle. The thin whisper of air from the ducts
above does nothing to cool my heated flesh. I want the release, crave it, and
yet I can’t quite let myself go. Not here. Not like this.
Damien knows that, of course. His real purpose isn’t to
make me come—it’s to take me to the precipice. Pleasure, yes, but underscored
by frustration. By need. And, ultimately by anticipation.
J. KENNER
Kenner (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal and #1 International bestselling author of over one hundred novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres.
Though known primarily for her award-winning and international bestselling erotic romances (including the Stark and Most Wanted series) that have reached as high as #2 on the New York Times bestseller list, JK has been writing full time for over a decade in a variety of genres including paranormal and contemporary romance, “chicklit” suspense, urban fantasy, and paranormal mommy lit. JK has been praised by Publishers Weekly as an author with a “flair for dialogue and eccentric characterizations” and by RT Bookclub for having “cornered the market on sinfully attractive, dominant antiheroes and the women who swoon for them.” A six time finalist for Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA award, JK took home the first RITA trophy awarded in the category of erotic romance in 2014 for her novel, Claim Me (book 2 of her Stark Trilogy) and in 2017 for Wicked Dirty in the same category. Her Demon Hunting Soccer Mom series (as Julie Kenner) is currently in development as a television show. Her books have sold over three million copies and are published in over twenty languages. In her previous career as an attorney, JK worked as a clerk on the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, and practiced primarily civil, entertainment and First Amendment litigation in Los Angeles and Irvine, California, as well as in Austin, Texas. She currently lives in Central Texas, with her husband, two daughters, and two rather spastic cats.
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