Ivy Westlake comes alive at her friend’s hacienda in Mexico when she discovers the Flamenco. Her wild side is unleashed in the sensuality of dancing. She will not be forced into a marriage of convenience, so she flees with the dance troupe.
Jake Agee, cowboy, loner, has built a life with no commitments. That explodes in his face when Ivy dances. He spots her again performing in a small California town. He battles his desire to have this woman against his well-honed sense of independence.
Jake and Ivy perform their own style of pas de deux throughout southern California until their passions ignite in a desert cave in the middle of a thunder storm. Jake fights his growing love as Ivy fights her craving for their erotic pursuits. Jake’s long lost brother suddenly and mysteriously surfaces. Will this appearance tear Jake and Ivy apart? Will it destroy their love?
It was more than just wanting to seduce her, he could find a willing woman. But could he find one with Ivy's specific attributes—stubborn, courageous, unconsciously sensuous but innocent at the same time. She rode like a man, danced like a dream, looked like an angel and kissed like the very devil. How could this eastern girl, brought up in the lap of luxury living a life so completely different from his, have any interest in him? He could no longer ignore the spark he knew they'd both felt the first time they'd set eyes on each other and whenever they kissed. As much as he tried to think it through logically, it wasn't something that could be reasoned out. He'd ridden around in circles, literally and figuratively, until he'd made his decision.
While wiping the horse down with rags from his saddlebags, he saw her in his peripheral vision flinch at every lightning flash and boom of thunder. She stood shivering against the wall, watching his every move, watching the rain and wind whip through the brush outside the cave. She hugged her arms, rubbing them distractedly. She must be freezing in her clothing soaked from the driving rain.
""Easy, boy,"" he murmured soothingly to his horse. Easy, boy. Soothing himself. She'd come willingly but did she know what was going to happen? Easy. Don't frighten her.
""I'll make a fire."" He squatted and lit the brush inside a circle of stones he'd set up earlier when he'd found the cave. Fitful flames finally flared, their light steadier and more comforting than the lightning flashes.
Pushing himself upright off his bent knees, he turned and focused on her. His gaze swept from her feet to her intense wide eyes. Loosened hair tumbled over her shoulders and breasts, her hard nipples clearly jutting against the clingy wet cloth of her shirt. His cock throbbed at the sight.
""Take this off."" He fingered the collar of her shirt. A frown flashed in her dark eyes. He didn't want her to be frightened. ""You're cold,"" he explained softly. Although she'd willingly come with him, he wouldn't rush her. He wanted her more than life itself but she was a virgin. Faltering for a moment, knowing he'd be her first, he begged God to keep him from taking her like some sort of wild beast. Even though, with the aching cock in his pants demanding satisfaction, that's exactly what he felt like.
God, she's beautiful. A dark cloud of wavy hair surrounded her head, his fingers tingling to sift though the strands. A sharp crack of thunder interrupted his thoughts. He swiveled his head at the sound of a frightened whinny and assured himself his horse was all right.
Turning back, he saw her blink and lick her lips. On edge himself, he never dropped his gaze but kept his hands at his sides. It was the last time he was aware of anything outside of the cave, outside the two of them.
She began unbuttoning her shirt. He watched avidly, controlling his greedy desire. Flicking a glance to her eyes, he found her staring at him, both uncertainty and a growing arousal in hers.
""Ivy sweetheart, don't be afraid,"" he murmured.
""I'm not,"" she responded, the hitch in her breathing belying her claim.
ABOUT Jane Leopold Quinn
Sensual fantasies were locked in my mind for years until a friend said, "Why don't you write them?" Why not? One notebook, a pen and the unleashing of my imagination later with more than a dozen books published. The craft of writing erotic romance has become my passion. I love every part of the creative process — developing characters, designing the plot, even drawing the layout of physical spaces from my stories. Now I'm lucky enough to write romance full time — the best job in the universe!
http://janeleopoldquinn.blogspot.com | https://twitter.com/jelquinnauthor