If you've always wanted to sample my work, this sexy tale is a perfect short at .49 cents (or .99 cents from Amazon)!
"When the hunter becomes the hunted, there is nowhere to run."
Without further ado, here is a little more information to whet your appetite!
Blurb: A woman on the run from the man who killed her family stops, against her better judgment, to lose herself in a night of passion. When her stalker finds them, the hunter becomes the hunted.
Maggie shoved through the bramble thicket, the sharp thorns piercing her jeans and shirt, sticking into her bare arms. With a yank she tore free, feeling the sharp stinging of fresh wounds.
Keep going! You stop now and you’re dead like the others.
Breathing hard, the ache in her lungs fierce, Maggie leaned against a tree trunk, her exhaled frantic gasps making white plumes in the dim light, and listened.
For a few seconds, there was no sound. Then came the harsh cracks of breaking branches, the thrashing noise of stalking legs through the carpet of dead leaves growing steadily closer.
Maggie drew a hitching breath, and began to run.
He’ll kill me when he finds me. So I can’t let him find me. Ever.
Maggie stared at the new student in her Literature 101 night class, trying to place him. There was something familiar about him. Had he been in one of her other college classes?
As if he could feel her stare, the dark haired man suddenly looked up, his gaze meeting hers. Instead of looking away, Maggie stared back boldly, making her interest known, hoping for a welcoming smile. But the man only watched her a moment with his dispassionate, dark hazel eyes, then resumed looking at his textbook.
Intrigued, Maggie watched him surreptitiously for the rest of class. Unfortunately, her interest was not as furtive as she believed.
“Miss Gentry?” Her professor’s mocking tones broke into Maggie’s thoughts, startling her. “Would you elaborate on tonight’s topic, if you can tear yourself away from Mr. Hayes?”
You’re getting yourself noticed, attention you can’t afford. Flushing, Maggie cleared her throat. “Blanche’s motivations were denial and lust. She was so unable to cope with her fate that she kept losing herself in fantasy.”
“Fair enough,” the professor nodded, then turned his attention to the class. “Everyone, your papers on the relationship between sex and death in A Streetcar Named Desire are due a week from Monday. Class dismissed.”
Maggie remained seated, looking down, nursing her embarrassment, while most of the class filtered out. She raised her head just in time to see Mr. Hayes slipping out through the door. Taking a breath for courage, she hurried after him.
Reaching the door, she looked at the crowd of students that were retreating down the hall, but he was not among them. Where had he gone?
A footstep sounded to her right. She turned, startled, looking at the end of the dimly lit hall, her lips parted. No one was there.
But what if he is down there? Now is the perfect time to catch him alone.
Maggie let out an anticipatory breath, then headed into the darkness, her sneakers silent on the floor tiles. She rounded the corner, and came face to face with Mr. Hayes, who was leaning against the wall watching her; the look in his eyes deep and unfathomable.
“Hi,” Maggie stammered.
“You were watching me,” he said, in measured tones that made her shiver with wanting.
You’ve never been afraid in your life, not about this. Don’t start now. Maggie stepped closer, right in front of him. “Yes, I was.”
She waited, her heart racing, for him to say something, anything. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, tipping his head, and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, careful to the point of being chaste. Yet the sheer heat of it burned through Maggie’s body, unleashing all of her hunger.
Maggie reached up with her right hand and clasped the nape of his neck, her lips devouring his, her left arm circling his waist to pull him closer. He responded with a groan, his arms pulling her close, molding his body to hers. Maggie lost herself in sensation, only drawing back finally to take a ragged breath of air.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Lucas,” he said, his tone filled with heat. He turned his head, kissing her hand, then nibbling it with his teeth. “I already know yours….Maggie Gentry.”
A thrill of lust went through Maggie. “How?”
Lucas gave her a smile. “Do you think I was in that class tonight by accident? I wanted to meet you, Maggie.”
Maggie fought to take a breath, her excitement making her lightheaded. “Why?”
“Because we’re the same,” he said, holding her possessively. “I know you feel it, too.”
Maggie shuddered, a sudden feeling of fear constricting her chest. Was this some kind of trap? Could she trust him?
“Shh,” Lucas murmured into her hair. “I can smell your fear.” He breathed in deeply, nuzzling her.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Maggie said boldly.
“Maybe not,” Lucas whispered. “Maybe you’re afraid of your own desire.” His kisses trailed down along her throat.
What I’m afraid of, you wouldn’t understand. Maggie shoved back from him, her expression angry. “I’m not afraid, Lucas. I’m the one that came after you.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Would you have even said hello to me tonight? How long would it have taken for something to happen, if I hadn’t bridged the gap?”
Lucas gave a small smile. “I had to know you were interested first, Maggie.” His smile widened. “Now I do.”
Damn his arrogance, he was still arousing her. Time to call his bluff. “Are you going to do anything about it or not?”
“Oh, yes,” Lucas said lightly. “If you meet me tonight, close to midnight, in the campus nature preserve. Near the bridge.” He kissed her cheek, then walked past her down the hallway.
I’d prefer a bed. But hell, a romp in the night woods would be a new experience. “Should I bring a blanket?”
“Just yourself,” Lucas said without turning. “With me, that’s all that you’ll need.”