Roxanne Jones has one day off this weekend. She does not want to spend it carrying her unmentionables to the nearby Laundromat but Fate has different plans. When the washing machine in her apartment building dies mid-cycle, Roxanne has no choice but to finish her laundry across the street. Once inside the Tumble Dry launderette, she discovers that the dryers aren`t the only hot things to watch. In walks a younger man wearing the only clean items left in his wardrobe: torn jeans, sandals, tattoos, sex appeal, and a few well-placed piercings. When the two lock gazes no amount of fabric softener can stop the sparks from flying. It doesn`t take long for Donovan King, an English major at the local college, to not only woo Roxanne, he manages to begin to a steamy seduction that won`t end until both are well-tumbled.
“So do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Have a couple of spare quarters? Since you won’t let my man things gyrate around in the water with your woman things.”
Was he saying those kinds of things on purpose? Of course he was, if the puckish grin he now wore was any indicator. Oh, I did like this man. A lot.
“Honey, I’m not sure that your man things are man enough to gyrate with my woman things,” I parried. He chortled then leaned a hip into the washer, his arms folding over his bare chest.
“I’m pretty sure that they are.” He said it with utmost confidence in the prowess of his man things. I sucked down a large gulp, the twinge behind my eye reminding me to slow down. I sipped and enjoyed looking at him, spying a small, silver navel ring glistening from the neon lights overhead. My mouth was dry even though I had just swallowed some of my drink. His steady gaze made me fidget.
“Rather sure of your man things, aren’t you?” I finally said, as I tossed my change purse to him. He caught it with one hand, his eyes never leaving my face.
“Rather,” he commented offhandedly, opened the tiny bag then extracted four quarters. My tongue toyed with the end of my straw. He laid the purse on the top of the machine next to his then arranged the coins in the slots, all four standing erect. Mmm, what a nice word that is. Erect. Makes all sorts of dirty, sweaty images appear inside a woman’s mind, doesn’t it?
“Excuse me, sir, but this cart is mine.”
“Really? And how is that, Roxanne? Clearly I was here first.” He leaned over the cart, his scruffy cheek brushing mine he whispered beside my ear. “You were engrossed with erotic thoughts about my mouth and the pleasure it could bring you.”
He drew back. My brain shut down as my mouth dropped open. That was all the time Donavon needed to commandeer the cart.
“No I wasn’t.” There. Take that. I bet that verbal spear pierced a few vitals. Not.
Damn the man for reading me like that beaten-up poetry book of his. He shrugged a shoulder, the inked one. An emerald-eyed tiger rolled it’s head at the up and down motion.
“Yeah, you totally were. Would you like me to tell you the signs of arousal that you’re wearing at the moment?” He threw several pairs of wet jeans into the cart. They landed with a slap.
“The only thing that I’m wearing at the moment is a dash of lovely,” I countered quickly.
“Yes, you are incredibly lovely, and horny. Your nostrils are flared, your eyes are wanton, your nipples are hard, and you keep licking your lips.” He paused in tossing balled-up shirts into the cart. “You also keep crossing and uncrossing your legs.”
Shit. Okay. So the man knew I was sporting a big girl-boner for him.
“Maybe I just have hives.” I tugged the cart away from him then stalked over to my washer with the buggy in tow. I heard his throaty chuckle behind me.
“Maybe you want me to take you somewhere private and read you something…Sapphic.”
He was right behind me, his breath fluttering past my left ear, his body close enough to exchange sparks with mine. Damn. Damn. Damn. My spine stiffened, as did my nipples. They were now so hard they hurt.
“You think reading me lesbian poetry will turn me on?” I inquired, trying to sound as if his smoldering nearness was having no effect. The smoky cast to my voice kind of ruined the indifferent attitude I was going for.
“I think you’re already turned on.” I heard the cart being nudged aside. I stood as still as a deer in a strange meadow, alert to every sound. My fingers gripped the lid to the machine as he stepped closer. The touch of his chest to my back was seismic. Desire didn’t just uncoil like a snake finding a warm rock, it rose up like a jungle cat, and then stretched, sharp claws of need raking open my calm exterior.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, belly laughs, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted goofy domestic fowl, and two steers: one named after a famous N.H.L. goalie while the other carries the moniker of a 60`s pop legend.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.
I love to meet new friends and fans! You can find me at-
Secret Cravings Backlist Books:
Pink Pucks & Power Plays (Book One of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
A Most Unlikely Countess (Book Two of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
O Captain! My Captain!(Book Three of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
Reality Check (Book Four of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
Torquere Press Backlist and Upcoming Releases
Two Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse (Part of the He Loves Me For My Brainssss anthology)
Two Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse 2: It Came From Birmingham
Two Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse 3″ He’s a Lumberjack and He`s Undead
Love of the Hunter
All I Want for Christmas
Every Sunday at One (Part of the 2013 Charity Sip Anthology)
Night of the Jackal
And coming in 2015 exclusively from Torquere Press . . . An Erie Operetta and Early to Rise – A Toms & Tabbies Tale.