Title: Slow Dancing
Author: Stylo Fantôme
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 21, 2020
Blurb
A rising pop star who can't let go of her
emotional baggage, and a cocky dance partner who doesn't know what monogamy is.
She's inhibited.
He's free-spirited.
She doesn't want a relationship.
He doesn't believe in them.
She can't believe that anyone would love her.
He can't seem to stop himself from loving her.
When their differences collide and sparks
start to fly, he's sure it's the start of something amazing.
And she's sure it's the end of her career.
Who will be right?
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Excerpt
This was it. Their one-night-stand was about to officially become an
affair. Was Logan really ready for this? There would be no going back. It was
all casual to him, but she knew from experience that when all was said and
done, he would own a piece of her. Snatch it right away as he ran off to the
next person.
“You're thinking something,” Woods whispered, lips brushing hers, and his
hands moved up to her head, holding her close to him. “Something bad.”
She swallowed thickly.
“I want to know if you've slept with Jeremy again.”
“Seriously, Logan, as much as you talk about him when we're together, I'm
beginning to think he's the one you should be fucking,” he chuckled. She shook
her head.
“Okay, then, I want to know if you've slept with Lucas. Or Becca. Or the
roadie with the cigarette.”
“The who?”
“Woods.”
“Do you want me to lie?”
Logan went still. Licked her lips and squeezed her eyes shut.
“No.”
“No, I haven't slept with anybody since you,” he said, and she
sighed as he started kissing down the side of her jaw. “But that doesn't mean I
haven't wanted to.”
“Oh?”
“I haven't because I knew it would bother you,” Woods breathed, his
tongue trailing down her neck. She let her head drop back.
“Very generous of you, sir.”
“I'm like the Santa Claus of sex.”
“Disgusting analogy, never use it again.”
“Would it bother you if I did?” he asked. She opened her eyes and
stared at the ceiling.
“I don't know,” she was honest. “Yes? I wish I was as sexually open and
free and cool as you are, but I'm just … boring. I wouldn't stop you, though. I
understand. Just … maybe not do anything in front of me, please.”
He shocked her then by bursting out laughing. He stepped back and draped
his arms around her waist.
“Did you just politely ask me not to fuck around with other people in
front of you?” Woods double checked. Logan felt her cheeks go up in flames.
“I'm just trying to be nice.”
“Fuck being nice,” he shook his head. “Be honest – with me, and yourself.
If you want to cut my nuts off every time I hit on someone, tell me. If
you want to watch while I fuck Lucas on the tour bus, definitely tell
me. Why do you make everything about everyone else?”
That brought her up short.
“I … I don't,” she tried to argue, but he shook his head.
“That first night together, you were so concerned about Jeremy, about
what people would think. Same thing when we talked the other day. And just now,
it's like you don't give a shit about what you really want – so long as I'm
comfortable. I mean, sure, it's nice of you. It's too nice. Who
taught you that you shouldn't ask for the things you want?” he asked.
She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down so hard, she
whimpered. Woods noticed, his eyes dropping to her mouth. Then he leaned down
to kiss the sting.
“I don't know,” she breathed. “I don't know what I want. I don't want to
think about you sleeping with other people. But I don't want to stop you, I don't.
I … it …” she searched for the words.
“Poor lost little Logan,” he whispered, pulling at the draw string on her
shorts. “But not really lost, are you? I think I get it. People are always
treating you like this delicate little doll. Like you're breakable. But you're
not.”
“I'm not,” she groaned, pressing her forehead to his and running her
hands over his shoulders.
“People handle you like you're glass,” he kept going, and she started to
shiver.
“They do,” she agreed.
“What do you want to be handled like?”
She took a deep breath.
“Barbed wire.”
His hands were suddenly clenching her biceps so hard, she cried out in
pain. Pressed her palms against his chest as she stared up at him. His eyes
blazed down at her, so full of desire and danger, finally taking on a mossy
green hue.
They'd barely touched, and she was already panting.
“You better watch what you ask for. I'm not like all these other fucking
guys in your life,” he growled. “I have no fucking problem with treating you as
roughly as you can handle.”
“You think you can really do that?” she gasped, pushing him.
Author Bio
Crazy woman
from a remote location in Alaska (where the need for a creative mind is a
necessity!), I have been writing since ... forever? Yeah, that sounds about
right. I have been told that I remind people of Lucille Ball - I also see
shades of Jennifer Saunders, and Denis Leary. So basically, I laugh a lot, I'm
clumsy a lot, and I say the F-word A LOT.
I like dogs
more than I like most people, and I don't trust anyone who doesn't drink. No, I
do not live in an igloo, and no, the sun does not set for six months out of the
year, there's your Alaska lesson for the day. I have mermaid hair - both a
curse and a blessing - and most of the time I talk so fast, even I can't
understand me.
Yeah. I
think that about sums me up.
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