Exclusive Excerpt from Say You’ll Be Nine
by Lucy Lennox
I took a breath and pulled my phone out of my pocket. “Speaking of our relationship. I think we should make our first post right now and get this party started.”
After nudging him back out the door to the RV and into the clearing between the RV and the rubble pile formerly known as a cabin, I positioned him the way I wanted. “Okay, stay right there.”
I turned around and backed up against him until my back rested against his front. His entire body tensed. I leaned my head back against his shoulder and reached for one of his hands to pull it around my waist in an embrace. It was like trying to mold a brick of stubborn ice. “Relax,” I muttered. “I’m not going to take advantage of you.”
His grunt made me laugh, so I took the opportunity to capture it on film, clicking my phone while trying to make sure the rubble pile was also in the frame. Even on my small phone screen, I could see Nine’s discomfort.
“Act like you’re not disgusted by me, you oaf.” Now he was starting to piss me off. “This is never going to work if you look like you’d rather be having dental surgery than touching me.”
I felt the warm air of his exhale against the side of my neck seconds before his beard brushed the same spot. He nuzzled into my neck with his beard and his lips, nearly bringing me to my knees with shock and pleasure. I hoped to god that tiny whimper was only in my head.
“You smell like pickles,” he murmured against my neck. “I like pickles.”
My breathing came in short, shallow pulls as his arm tightened around my middle and the bulky fly of his jeans brushed against my ass.
Oh dear god.
“Me too,” I breathed.
“You too what?” he asked.
“Like pickles. A lot.” I closed my eyes and begged for strength. “A lot, a lot. Like… a lot.”
What was I even talking about right now?
The deep rumble of his laughter vibrated against my back just before he stepped away and turned to walk toward the rubble. “I think you got enough shots for now. Let’s see what we’ve got.”
I watched the round globes of his ass being lovingly attended to by those jeans as he walked away. He’d stripped off the flannel, leaving only the tight, white undershirt. It highlighted the massively wide shoulders and every rounded muscle in his back leading down to his narrow waist and championship ass. The man was god’s definition of masculine perfection.
Okay, he was at least my definition of it. I couldn’t look away. My dick was as hard as the sturdy pine trees at the edge of the forest.
His gruff voice snapped me out of my lumberjack fantasy. “Stop staring at my ass, and get over here with that camera.”
“I was only looking at your ass because you sat in something brown,” I said. “Looks like you shat yourself. It’s disgusting.”
He looked back over his shoulder to see if I was joking. And that’s when it happened.
Nine’s eyes traveled down my body like the hands of an attentive lover before landing on my dick and staying there for a long moment. When his eyes moved back up to meet mine, they were filled with undeniable heat. I couldn’t breathe. My throat had turned to dust, and my heart didn’t know how to beat. What the fuck was happening?
“Based on the state of your blue jeans,” he drawled, “I don’t think you find me disgusting at all. Now get your ass over here and start taking pictures. Sweetie.”
About Say You’ll Be Nine
One dilapidated cabin in need of renovation.
Two stubborn men pretending to be a couple.
Three summer months to get the job done.
Four tangled legs in only one bed.
Five cameras catching it all for YouTube.
Six hundred thousand Instagram followers.
Seven nosy family members with Opinions.
Eight thousand reasons they should never fall in love.
Nine million reasons why they will.
Say You’ll Be Nine is a standalone novel..
Available at: Amazon
About Lucy Lennox
After enjoying creative writing as a child, Lucy didn’t write her first novel until she was over 40 years old. Her debut novel, Borrowing Blue, was published in the autumn of 2016. Lucy has an English Literature degree from Vanderbilt University, but that doesn’t hold a candle to the years and years of staying up all night reading tantalizing novels on her own. She has three children, plays tennis, and hates folding laundry. While her husband is no shmoopy romance hero, he is very good at math, cooks a mean lasagne, has gorgeous eyes, looks hot in his business clothes, and makes her laugh every single day.
Lucy hopes you enjoy sexy heroes as much as she does. Happy reading!
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