Exotic dancer Monroe Calliste recognizes the reindeer shifter eyeing her with open curiosity as she performs on stage. She remembers too well the one night they allowed themselves free reign over each other’s bodies. But he doesn’t recall their tryst, or maybe pretends not to. Either way, Monroe sets out to give him a refresher course.
Dasher Petrovic has no memory of the coffee-colored temptress insisting they shared more than their bodies at one time. Monroe’s eyes reflect a mutual burn, but she can’t be right. If he’d spent even a second in her bed, he’d know. His ice melts under Monroe’s fire, but the question remains, what happened to his memory?
This is a previously published work. It has been edited for Evernight Publishing.
EXCERPT: While eavesdropping on his phone call, she undressed with her back to him, stepping out of her dress and in to a fluffy bathrobe. She turned to face him when he spoke.
“Mr. Claus.” His tone was hesitant, his young age coming through in that moment. “I had a bit of an accident. Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He paused. “Missed the flight, though.” He listened for a while then nodded. “I know that. It’s—” He looked at her and those blue eyes softened. “I’ll have to stay for a while longer and head back out in a couple days.”
Damn. Her entire body flashed hot. Did he mean he wanted to pick up where they’d been when he ran out the last time? She hoped so. The questions lingered, of course, but they didn’t have answers. All they had was each other and a few days together in a hotel room.
“No,” he continued. “It can’t be helped. I have things to deal with here. I can’t leave now.”
He eye-fucked her, and that man had no idea what it took for her to stand there and smile at him when she wanted to strip him bare and ride him—hard.
“Yes, I know, and I won’t let you down.” He pursed his lips and closed his eyes briefly. “Thanks.” He hung up and placed the phone on the table.
She took a step forward and another. Soon she was jammed up against him, close enough to watch the ice-cold pupils dilate, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him in addicting waves.
Monroe reached out a hand and teased the first button on his shirt with one finger. “You gonna stay with me?” She hadn’t meant to purr, but the words somehow came out sounding that way.
She’d taught him well. In response, he fisted her hair and yanked. “Lose the robe.”
Fuck if the robe didn’t hit the floor before he ended that sexy-ass growl. He yanked off his shirt with impatient hands, exposing the wide and smooth expanse of his chest. With a moan, she flattened her palms over him as her body pulsed. She’d been missing this, missing him like a part of her soul. Just the touch of him, his scent, put it all to rights.
He kissed her, hungry bites of teeth and wet slides of tongue, and she sank into the taste of him with her eyes closed. Her nipples poked into his chest, the sensation incredible. Her juices already flowed, soaking the crotch of her underwear.
Dash might not know her, but he knew her body, and he knew how to touch her. No one else did. He broke the kiss and stepped back, unbuttoning his jeans. A slight shade of red colored his cheekbones, and his eyes were dark, narrowed to flints. “Bend over the edge of the bed.”
He gestured with a hand, and she hurried to do as he’d commanded. Shit. He took to giving orders so well he had her melting.