Title: One Step Back
Author: Edie Danford
Publisher: Edie Danford
Release Date: October 23, 2018
Heat Level: 4 - Lots of Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 85,000 words
Genre: Romance, Enemies-to-lovers, coworkers, workplace, stepbrothers
Add to Goodreads
Synopsis
When you fall for a guy who’s about to
become your stepbrother—do you listen to
your heart and risk everything? Or
listen to your head…and take one step back?
In high school I had a hundred reasons
to steer clear of my soon-to-be-
stepbrother, Joe Beneventi. He was a
hothead, and I was reserved. His life was football,
mine was academics. He wanted to be out
and proud, and I desperately needed to keep
my orientation secret.
But when we fell in love, my heart took
the wheel, and I took every risk to be with
Joe. Then one horrible night our secrets
shattered. Joe disappeared—wrecking our
families and breaking my heart.
Eleven years later, I landed a
challenging job at a premier PR firm. And the hotshot
publicist who’s been assigned to my
first big account? Yep. It’s Joe.
Fate truly hates me because now Joe and
I have three days to hole up in a
Chicago hotel room and nail down a deal
that could make or break our careers. He
keeps distracting me, but I’m too jaded
to fall for sexy smiles, bedroom eyes, and his
impossible-to-ignore body. Except…
I like being close to him again. A
little too much. Working together 24/7 is showing
me sides of Joe I’ve never seen before.
And when we touch, being together seems
like the only step worth taking.
Excerpt
I take a deep breath. Gotta prepare
myself for being up-close and personal with the force of nature that is Joseph
Vincent Beneventi.
“Hey, Joe,” I say, my voice cracking.
Not how I’d wanted to sound.
His sexy mouth curves, and I get hit
with the full impact of his attention-sucking energy. It zaps across the
entryway. Through the guesthouse and the five-acre yard. All of Chicagoland.
The state of Illinois, the entire Midwest…
Yeah, you get the picture. Joe has
<em>it</em>. Chemical hoodoo-voodoo oozes from his pores and makes
you forget whatever it is you’re doing, whatever happened to be on your mind.
And all you can do is stand there and stare at him. And listen to the
ridiculous shit that comes out of his gorgeous mouth.
I’ve had to cope with this Joe-phenomenon
for three years now, as long as his mom and my dad have been dating. Weekends
and vacations together at first, and then mostly full time as of last year,
after Kim and Bernie got engaged and bought this monstrosity of a property
together.
Wedding-planning and “a home where we
can be a family” was supposed to bring us stability. Wishful thinking, because
things between my dad and Joe’s mom—between all of us, really—seem rockier than
ever.
“Hey, you.” Joe leans against the door
jamb, killer smile flashing.
He’s a big, glossy beast, and he lights
up the night that I’ve tried to darken. I look away from his shining eyes, but
his jacked chest and abs, his maybe-too-tight board shorts, his legs, his feet,
aren’t any easier to ignore.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be home
tonight?” he asks. His deep voice has a slight throb, like he’s actually hurt.
“You didn’t answer my message. Any of my messages. I get why you didn’t want to
show for my amazingly fucking boring graduation, but… I was hoping to hear
about your plans. For the summer.”
He reaches up to brush damp hair from
his face, the movement popping every muscle from shoulder to wrist. Matty
actually sighs from behind me. I try not to notice how the longer hair and the
scruff on his chin make Joe look hotter than his usual smoking hellfire.
He spent his senior year at a
therapeutic high school here in the Chicago area and the place didn’t demand
buzz-cuts the way the military school did. The longer black waves do amazing
things for his cheekbones, his squared-off chin, his sin-dark eyes.
I’m supposed to be saying something. So
I open my mouth and a lame excuse comes out. “I wasn’t sure about flight times.
Until the last minute. Storms in New York.”
He nods, head tilting as he scrutinizes
my features. He wants to believe me even though it’s obvious I’m lying. The sky
had been clear when I’d jetted away from LaGuardia, my freshman year of college
complete.
I’d been avoiding all contact with Joe
since Christmas break. I’d figured he’d understand why I didn’t respond to any
of his messages today. Or at least take the hint. <em>Hey, Joey, after I
don’t answer your two-hundredth-and-seventieth voicemail, maybe that means I
don’t want to communicate with you. </em>But Joe is thick in more ways
than one.
His dark eyes get warmer as they take me
in, the dimple in his right cheek popping. His thumb traces the sand-dollar
tattoo under his left nipple, a move I’m sure he’s making unconsciously. I do
the same thing sometimes. I have a matching tattoo; we’d gotten them in Mexico
during Christmas vacation two years ago. The ’rents had been very confused when
both of us suddenly wore rash guards 24/7 for the rest of the break. Joe had
come up with a BS-but-brilliant excuse about stingray sightings and the angle of
the sun and the chemicals in sunscreen lotion killing off coral reefs.
And, okay. I’m not being fair. Joe isn’t
thick. He’s probably smarter than me. He just doesn’t know how to rein in a lot
of the bad shit that constantly roams his head. I’ve actually tried to help him
figure out some stuff, given him some pointers about how to focus and
prioritize—
There’s a crashing noise from the pool
area. More shit breaking.
“Fuck,” he mutters, looking over his
shoulder.
“You better get back there. Broken
glass. Blood. Nastiness. It’s all gonna happen.”
He sighs—a shudder wracking his six-five
frame. “Should’ve never invited anyone over.” His smile is crooked. “Your
fault. I wouldn’t have had to get up to shenanigans with Bran and Troy if I’d
known you’d be here tonight.”
And, there it is.
The reason why he always,
<em>always </em>manages to piss me off. I’m not responsible for
him. Not responsible for his feelings, for his actions. I refuse to be.
“Not my fault,” I say, my voice cracking
again, damn it. I take a step backward, my hand pulling the door closed.
“Asher, come on. You know I didn’t mean
it like that—”
I shut the door in his face. Then I pull
the blinds closed, blocking out his beauty, blocking out his hurt expression.
Maturity can go fuck itself, because literally closing off Joe from my senses
will be the only way I can survive the summer.
“Wow,” Matty says.
“Yeah,” I agree.
#
It’s probably a few hours later when
something jolts me awake. It’s Joe looming over me. I must’ve passed out after
Matty left. I’m sprawled on the big chaise in the guesthouse’s living room, Joe
standing so close his knees are touching the cushion’s edge.
There’s only one light on, a yellow glow
coming from the glass-fronted cabinet that displays Joe’s shell collection. It
creates weird, streaky shadows across his super-defined chest and abs.
His shorts are dry now, not as tight on
his thighs or his package, but I can see he’s erect, a righteous bulge that’s
impossible to miss. And, when I look up into his face, my gaze snags on his
parted lips, his heavy-lidded eyes .
The house is quiet. No more party
outside. When Joe inhales suddenly, I can feel the sharpness of his breath in
my own lungs.
I sit, swinging my legs to the side of
the chaise, planting my feet on either side of his. He takes my face in his
hands. His fingers are warm, familiar, his touch so tender it makes me want to
cry.
And, God, when our gazes connect, and I
immediately fall into that dark brown and gold I dream about, tears clog my
throat, for real.
“Ash,” he whispers, his voice so hoarse
I can barely hear it. The pad of his thumb passes over my lower lip. I lick
away the taste of him and he sighs. “Damn, I missed you.”
I nod. I can’t speak. It hurts.
Purchase at Amazon
Meet the Author
Edie lives in Vermont with her husband, two sons, and random creatures that might or might not be pets. She loves libraries (where she's found play, work, and love since she was a kid), long walks (unless ice is involved), lewd language (in the right context), luscious romance (of any variety), and alliteration.Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | eMail
Giveaway
No comments:
Post a Comment