Friday, April 11, 2014

When Blake Met Sorab (Love Blake!!!)

When Blake Met Sorab

I paused at the bathroom door, shocked.  
She was laughing, I mean really laughing, the way I had never seen her do while with me.  The laughter was like a fountain of fresh, sweet water bubbling up from deep inside her being.  I stared at her as if I was a man who had been wandering in a desert for days without food or water.  
I don’t know how long I stood there simply staring.  At the sight of water.  So near and yet so far away.  You’re no better than a heroin addict desperate for his next fix, a voice inside my head taunted.  But at that moment there was nothing, nothing I wanted more than to take her in my arms and never ever let her go again.  
What was it about this woman that made her impossible to resist even when it was patently clear I shouldn’t trust her further than I could throw her?  Slowly, as if in a dream, I was drawn to the centre of her attention—to the shrieking, splashing, lustily laughing baby.  It was obvious.  
She loved that little creature.   
Instantly, I was jealous of it, of the love she had for it.  The jealousy didn’t strike me like a bolt, more like weevils crawling all over me.  The feeling disgusted me.  I didn’t want to be jealous of a fucking baby.  I wanted to hate her guts.  A small sound came from my throat.  
I didn’t plan it: it was involuntary.
Her head whirled around, and right before my eyes, quite interesting really, I watched her withdraw, build a wall around herself.  And I had to stop myself from laughing in her face.  She knew me so little.  Did she really think I was going to hit that wall, and just stop?  No wall could keep me out.  I would scale it, brick by fucking brick.  Nothing, no one could keep me out.
Until I said so she was mine.  To do with as I pleased.
‘Hi,’ she fluttered, nervous, very nervous.  And so she should be.  A secret thrill fizzled in my veins.  I wanted to throttle her.  Little bitch.  How dare she love the kid and not me?
‘Who do we have here?’ I said softly, going into the room.  
I looked into the child’s big, blue eyes; solemn, curious, unafraid, and suddenly, that disassociated, unreal feeling I hadn’t felt since I was child drifted in.  My mind didn’t say, ‘who are you?’  It said, ‘who am I?’  I felt like one of those turtles in Asia that have had their throats slit while still alive and I was bleeding out to make a blood cocktail for some demented human.  
Something was wrong with the picture I was looking at.  My mind began to race.  The baby grinned toothlessly, and in that instant, I understood everything.  The slit in my throat healed itself.  The incessant feeling of being empty and lost receded.
That was my son in my tub.  And that was my woman standing beside him.  
In that same moment of illumination I felt the danger.  It was in the room standing beside me, like an invisible shadow.  But by the time I turned to look at her, my eyes were neutral, betraying nothing.  We looked at each other.  
I saw the fear, but I also saw the love in her eyes.  How could I have missed it?  I felt rage, murderous rage at what had been done to her, us, but also wild and leaping joy that she loved me.  That she was pure.  She had acted as a mother.  Only as a mother.  I wanted to grab her and kiss her.  
‘Does he cry a lot?’ I asked finally, my voice so even and normal even I was impressed.
‘No.  Most nights he will sleep right through,’ she assured quickly.  
I saw the relief in her face.  I marveled at that.  She must think me a fool.  It would work in my favor.  
‘Good,’ I said with a nod, and as if losing interest, I turned away and went out.
My legs took me to the dining room.  I closed the door, leaned back against it, and closed my eyes.  When I opened my eyes I knew what I must do.  I knew too that this apartment was no longer safe for my family, but moving them would alert him.  The only thing in my favor was stealth.  As long as he thought I didn’t know I could lay my plans.  Otherwise, he would win.  He had nothing to lose, and I everything.  I picked up the phone and called a business associate.  I talked business for twelve minutes.  My voice betrayed nothing.  
I opened my briefcase.  Took some papers out.  Looked them over carefully.  Made notes on them.  Left messages for Laura to action on in the morning.  But all the time the best and most efficient part of me was coldly, meticulously planning the future.  Hours later, I went into the bedroom.  I knew he was listening and watching.  Let him listen.  Let him watch.  He would hear and see nothing different.   I closed the door softly.  She was already in bed, and by the sound of her even breathing, asleep.  
Quietly, I stepped through the connecting door that had been left ajar.  A sliver of light came in from the door leading into the corridor.  I walked up to the cot and stood over him.   I was surprised at the rush of pride that coursed through my body at the sight of his sleeping body.  I stood in the dark and fought the intense longing to feel the texture of his skin.  I clenched my fists.
Soon, soon I would claim him as mine, but not now.  
Tomorrow, when it wouldn’t appear ‘strange’ I would touch him.  I listened to my body, to the whisper of the purest emotion I had ever experienced.  To love without expecting anything in return.  With it came the instinct to protect what was mine.  They will not do to him what they did me and Marcus.   Without another glance at him l left as quietly as I had entered.
I sat next to her and she opened her eyes sleepily.  My beauty.  I loved her more than life itself.  I would kill with my bare hands for her.  I bent my head and kissed her.  The kiss was gentle and soft.  She came awake and opened her mouth.  The kiss deepened.  That raw hunger between us throbbed into life.  
So: he wanted to watch me with my woman.  Let him.  Watch while you can, Daddy.  I know what you are capable of, but you don’t know what I am capable of.  I slid my hand down her silky body and tugged at the rim of her knickers.  I laid my fingers flat between her legs.  Dampness seeped out from under the material.
‘You are so wet,’ I whispered, and inserted a finger into her.
She tensed.
Immediately I stilled.  ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing,’ she mumbled.  I put my hand out and flicked on the light switch.  She blinked and squinted.  
I lifted her gown up and turned her over.  What I saw cut me to shreds.  I wanted to cry.  I did that to her!  

(#2 The Billionaire Banker series) 
Recommended for 18+ due to mature themes and sexual content 

Beyond the seductive power of immense wealth lies... Dark Secrets 

Devastatingly handsome billionaire, Blake Law Barrington was Lana Blooms first and only love. From the moment they touched his power was overwhelming. Their arrangement quickly developed into a passionate romance that captivated her heart and took her on an incredible sexual journey she never wanted to end. 
The future together looked bright until Lana made a terrible mistake. So, she did the only thing she could... she ran. 

Away from her incredible life, away from the man of her dreams, but she should have known a man such as Blake Law Barrington was impossible to escape. Now, he’s back in her life and determined that she should taste the bitterness of his pain. 

Shocked at how rough the sex has become and humiliated that she is actually participating so willingly in her punishment, she despairs if she will ever feel the warmth of his touch—the solidity of his trust again? And even if she can win his trust, loyalties are yet to be decided, and secrets to be revealed—secrets that will test them both to their limits. 

Will Lana be able to tear down the walls that surround Blake’s heart, and break him free of the brutal power of immense wealth? 

Can Blake hold on to Lana’s heart when she discovers the enormity of the dark secrets that inhabit the Barrington family? 
Lana has always believed that love conquers all. She is about to test that belief… 

****Besotted  book 3 is set to be out 4/29/2014****

About the Author
Georgia Le Carre writes contemporary and adult romance.
She lives in a little old 19th century romantic cottage, surrounded by the most magical garden, filled with fruit and walnut trees and teeming with wildlife.
Her diet includes all things chocolate and a voracious appetite for Romance reads, particularly new authors with a fresh voice.
When she is not feeding words into Amy, her precious laptop, she can be found lost in a long walk in the woods, particularly on moonlit nights; and often with the man of her dreams.

1 comment:

  1. Thanks BJ for hosting my POV. It's a great honour to be on your blog. Take care now..xxxxxxxxx