Making Her Melt by Amber Lin
Publication date: December 11th 2014
Genres: New Adult, Romance
Lia has her perfect life mapped out after college–including her long term boyfriend Chris. But that will mean leaving her best friend Ethan behind, so how can that be perfect? Lia wants them both, but when things heat up, she’ll have to choose where her true future lies.
This Christmas, forbidden passion is sparking a fire… and MAKING HER MELT.
Will be found here come release day: http://www.amazon.com/Amber-Lin/e/B008H6L74M
About the Author:
Amber Lin writes edgy romance with damaged hearts, redemptive love, and a steamy ever after. Her debut novel, Giving It Up, received The Romance Review’s Top Pick, Night Owl Top Pick, and 5 Blue Ribbons from Romance Junkies. RT Book Reviews gave it 4.5 stars, calling it “truly extraordinary.” Since then, she has gone on to write erotic, contemporary, and historical romances.
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She leaned forward at the same time he did. They held that way, her lips inches from his, warm air forming a cocoon. Like breathing against the glass and watching it fog up. Her mind had clouded, blocking out any thoughts of defenses. She had no way to protect herself from the soft press of his lips or the ache it inspired in her. There were no walls left standing when he kissed her more firmly. She crumbled into pieces—into the lips that fused to his and the hand that held his arm and the toes that curled in her boots.
His hand slipped behind her neck and pulled her closer. Just that one touch, and she felt his presence surround her. He enveloped her like a mist and she breathed him in. Her whole body arched into him. Her breasts brushed his arm through her sweater. Maybe it was strange that he’d rubbed her off before they’d kissed, but it made this part easier. Her body was already primed for him. It knew what to expect—pleasure—and she rubbed against him in hope and expectation.
He groaned into her mouth, hot and desperate. “Lia. Lia.”
Before she could answer, his hands were on her hips, moving her, shifting her. He tucked one of her legs over his so that she straddled him, her core against his. Even through all that thick denim, she could feel his erection pulse, and she clenched in response.
“Oh God,” she whispered. How had they gotten here so fast?
How had it taken them so long?
“So good. You feel so fucking good.” He laughed unsteadily, and she knew he understood the impossibility of them. The inevitability. They had always been leading toward this, always been reaching for this without knowing it.
“Touch me,” she said on a breath, and he did. He obeyed her words, but he turned the tables, commanding her with his firm hands and warm breath. Hands around my neck, he said without words, and she curled herself around him, tangling her fingers in his soft, short hair. Rock against me, he said, and she moved her hips in time with his.
She had imagined him every way she could think of: fast and breathless. Slow and gentle. But she had never quite brought her fantasies to this—to this quiet, determined force of him.
Be mine, he said, and she melted in the warm embrace of his arms. Her body turned liquid and lax. She buffeted against the cliffs of his chest and lapped the shore of his lips.
It wasn’t enough, to be moved and directed. She wanted to run her cool fingers over him, like ripples over rock, until the earth shuddered beneath her.
The zipper rasped as she eased it down. He grunted as her fingers felt the length of his cock. He was still in shadows though. She pushed the flaps aside, eager to find him, her fingertips brushing against hot velvet.
His breath caught, and his body shuddered, ready and willing and—not there at all.
She blinked, but the cold rush of air hadn’t deceived her. He had crossed the room to get away from her. Crossed the whole freaking cabin. His movements were jerky as he straightened his clothes and looked anywhere but her.
He paced in front of the fireplace, not meeting her eyes.
She curled up, protecting herself. The lumpy cushion was still warm from his body. “Ethan?”
“You’re not ready yet.” He spoke to the ground, pacing, pacing. “It’s only been, what? A week since you broke up? Two?”
“A month,” she said, and watched him flinch. He knew the breakup had happened just after he left Austin. She spoke softly, “But let me decide what I’m ready for, and when.”
He stopped walking and faced her. “All right. You may be ready, but I’m not.”