1 blog + 31 authors = 31 Days Of Hotness
I’m fascinated by dreams (as you’ll know from my own books!) and by books that weave the dream world into the real one, and so I’m delighted to welcome JJ DiBenedetto to July Fever
He’s giving away ebook copies of all four books in the Dream Series to one lucky winner. To enter the draw, simply leave a comment and your email address.
I’m from New York, and I spent several years living in Cleveland and then Buffalo, so I’m much more of a winter person than a summer person; the heat (and humidity) of my current abode (the Washington, DC area) makes me feel like I’m melting.
But while I’m not a huge fan of the heat outdoors, in books I’m all for it. Here’s what I would definitely call the hottest scene in any of my four novels to date…
Excerpt from “Dream Family”
Before the front door even closes, my lips are on his, my arms around him, my hands reaching to touch every inch of his body. I want to pull him down on the floor, right here, tear off his clothes and…
He’s happy to go along with that; his body is pressed against mine, his hands exploring me, and he’s already very – well, involved. But I pull back. I’m ready, too; my body is completely responsive, doing everything it’s supposed to and more, but there’s one thing missing.
“Not out here,” I say. “And not this way.” He looks at me, but his eyes aren’t quite focused; I think I overwhelmed him. That’s not how I want this to go. I take his hand, lightly, and gesture towards our bedroom. After a moment, recognition settles across his face and I’m absolutely certain we’re thinking of the same thing: that night, that first night almost nine years ago.
I lead him into the bedroom and I go straight to the bedside table. I pick up my rings and bring them to Brian. He holds out his hand, and I drop them into his waiting palm. “You do it. Please.” Slowly, gently, he does. First, Grandma Roberta’s diamond slides onto my finger with no difficulty, no pain at all. Then the simple yellow gold of the wedding band, just as easily. The rest of me is going to be naked soon enough, but my ring finger is finally dressed the way it should be.
I take his face in my hands, pull him to me, and I kiss him. His arms surround me, but everything is slower now, more controlled – and at the same time far more intense. His hand goes to that spot on the back of my neck, and my legs go weak; I throw my arms around his neck to hold me up. Then my hand wanders down to his spot, in the small of his back, and I caress it just so. It only takes the tiniest bit of pressure and his knees buckle.
We stand there, holding each other up, until I finally break the kiss. I take a step back from him and unbutton my blouse, letting it fall to the floor. Then my jeans, and now I’m wearing only my underwear. He’s still dressed, but that’s fine; I’ll take care of him soon enough. First things first.
I kiss him again; his lips, his chin, then his neck, and he gasps. I bury my head there, and his hands cradle me. Everything else disappears. My eyes are closed, but all my other senses are almost overwhelmed by Brian. His scent fills my nose, the salty, sweet taste of his skin is on my lips, the gentle pressure of his touch surrounds me, the sound of his heart beating in rhythm with mine is the only thing I hear – he’s my entire world.
After a minute, or an hour, I open my eyes and step back again. Exactly like that night back in my dorm room, he reaches behind me, takes off my bra. No, not exactly: I don’t need to ask him and he doesn’t need my permission.
I’m standing completely still and he reaches down, puts his hands on my waist, takes hold of my panties. He stays like that for a moment, watching me for a reaction. I smile, and I say just one word: “Please.” His hands are welcome there – he can touch me anyplace, anytime. He pulls my panties down, and they fall around my ankles. I step out of them, and I’m naked. Completely exposed. Exactly the way I want – need – to be.
I do the same for him. I do it so slowly, stretching it out, the same way I always linger over unwrapping the last present under the Christmas tree. First his shirt, one button at a time, pausing after each one, kissing every inch of his chest as it’s uncovered. Then his pants; I carefully, deliberately unbuckle his belt, unbutton them at the waist, and with a hand that’s not trembling at all, I pull down the zipper. He lets the pants fall down, and I turn my attention to his boxers. I tug them down, a bit at a time, until, finally, all is revealed.
Now he’s naked and exposed, and he takes one step back. We stand there, maybe two feet apart, and for – I don’t know how long – we just look at each other, up and down, as though it’s the first time we’ve ever seen each other this way.
Everything about him is beautiful, from those browny-brown eyes, to his smiling mouth and strong chin, to those wonderful new muscles he’s been working on, to – to everything, all the way down. I could look at him like this forever.
I go back up, taking all the time in the world, inch by inch, drinking in every detail, until I’m staring into his eyes, lost in them. No, not lost. I see myself reflected in them. And in that reflection, I see all the beauty he sees in me. He’s always seen that, and I know he always will.
We reach out to each other, and a moment later we’re on the bed, our hands all over each other – but, again, moving slowly, gently, teasingly. We’re exploring every inch of each other. Just like the way he undressed me, this is how it was that first night – except his hands are sure instead of tentative, and I know the body I’m exploring every bit as well as my own.
Back then, that first time, and in the first few months afterwards, we were still learning each other. I had to watch his eyes to know when he was losing himself, when conscious thought disappeared and unconscious desire was all that remained. But now I can sense it as easily as I can feel it in myself. I can take him to the very edge of that moment, and then bring him back. A hand caressing his thigh, a kiss on his chin, a whisper in his ear; I know exactly how to touch him.
And – God, the way his hands, his lips, feel on my skin! – he knows my body just as well. He can – he is! – doing the same to me.
We take each other back and forth, over and over, dancing right up to that point and pulling back, until every nerve in both our bodies is screaming. I don’t know how long we go on like that, before we look into each other’s eyes and we both know the moment has arrived.
He rolls onto his back, and I’m on top of him. He doesn’t flinch at my weight pressing down on him; neither of us have any attention or thought to spare as we go over the edge together.
After that there’s only sensation, only pleasure, his and mine, and a shout from my throat – no, from the very core of me – that rattles the windows and echoes through the bedroom as we completely lose ourselves in each other…
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Blurb for Dream Family (Dreams #4)
“Why is this so hard for me? Why am I having so much trouble? Why do I feel so helpless, so hopeless? What the hell is wrong with me?”
After tangling with murders and mobsters, not to mention medical school and three years of residency, Sara thought she could handle anything. And then the police show up without warning at her new office and arrest her for a crime she can’t possibly have committed. Sara’s confidence, and her grip on reality, is shattered during one terrifying night in jail.
Now, the very dreams that have endangered her life and driven her to the edge of madness may be the only thing that can help Sara find herself again…
“Dream Family” is the powerful fourth novel in the “Dreams” series.
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Please join me tomorrow, when I welcome Parker Kincade to July Fever