One Perfect Night
The Sullivans, Book 9.5
Please enjoy the following excerpt of One Perfect Night: The Sullivans #9.5, copyright 2014, Bella Andre…
Oh. My. God.
Colbie had never seen a man this good looking before. Ever. Maybe in a movie or magazine, but never live and in person.
Mortification rode her even harder at the complete and utter fool she’d made of herself in front of him. Her luck really was that bad. Not only because she’d fallen face first into the snow, but also because she’d been unable to stop herself from rubbing all over him like a cat in heat.
She may even, she suddenly realized with a huge flash of dismay as she blinked at his perfect face, have moaned aloud at the sinfully delicious feel of his body pressing hers into the cold snow after he’d caught her tumbling down.
"Thank you so much. I hope I didn’t hurt you when you rescued me,” she said in an embarrassed voice.
Amazingly, he wasn’t looking at her with disgust. Instead, there was a smile on his lips and a sparkle in his green eyes. "Rescuing you was my pleasure. And no, you definitely didn’t hurt me at all."
Despite the depths of her mortification, her own lips were on the verge of turning up at the corners. "I’m not a very good skier," she admitted, before adding, "But you probably already guessed that."
"You thought that little girl who cut you off on the slope was in trouble, didn’t you?"
She had to laugh at herself. "She’s probably been skiing since she could walk, huh?"
He nodded. "I’m thinking we should keep an eye out for her in the Winter Olympics in another ten years or so."
Something like this would have had her ex laughing at her the rest of the day. But this man was simply laughing with her.
"Colbie," he repeated in that low, rough voice that sent shivers running across her skin as they shook hands...or thick ski gloves, anyway. Shivers that had nothing to do with the icy mountain they were sitting on and everything to do with him. His green eyes darkened slightly as he said, "That’s a pretty name. Unique, too."
She’d never, ever had to forcibly restrain herself from launching herself at a man to steal a kiss. A kiss she knew with one hundred percent certainty would blow her mind. But he hadn’t saved her so that she could maul him.
He brushed a lump of snow off her forehead and when she shivered, he said, "You’re cold."
She couldn’t tell him she was shivering at his nearness and from naughty thoughts of the things she wanted to do to him. Not to mention all the things she wanted him to do to her.
Excerpt from One Perfect Night: The Sullivans #9.5, copyright 2014, Bella Andre