The Fantasy Factor. Kimberly Raye
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“I want sex,” Sarah blurted into the receiver
Houston sat upright in bed. When he’d come back into town, he’d anticipated picking up where he and Sarah had left off—spending his nights burning up the sheets with her. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been of the same mind. Until now.
“You want to have sex,” Houston said, just to make sure he’d heard her correctly and this wasn’t just an extension of the very erotic dream he’d been having.
“Not plain old sex. I want it in a shower, a movie theater, a public rest room and an elevator. It’s unfinished business. Once we finish, things will get back to normal.” He could hear in her voice that she felt the same heat he did, burning her up from the inside out.
“Which means we should get started right away.” His body throbbed at the prospect.
“We’ll start tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? There was no way Houston would make it through another hour without her, much less an entire night. He wanted her and she wanted him, and they’d both admitted as much.
As far as he was concerned, there was no better time than the present.
Dear Reader,
It’s hot this time of year in Texas, but it’s blazing in the pages of my newest novel, The Fantasy Factor, thanks to Houston Jericho, the last of the notorious Jericho brothers.
Houston is a pro rodeo bull rider at the top of his game. But even more, he’s a bad boy and proud of it! He isn’t the least bit interested in changing his ways and settling down. He likes fast times and even faster women. When he rolls back into his hometown for the wedding of an old friend, the last thing he expects is to fall hard and fast for a good girl like Sarah Buchanan.
The thing is, Sarah isn’t as good as she pretends to be. There’s a bad girl lurking beneath the conservative clothes and quiet demeanor. One that refuses to forget Houston and the hot, sexy bargain they’d made when they were younger. Houston is more than ready to pick up where they’d left off, but Sarah isn’t so eager. She’s spent twelve years building a wholesome image and she isn’t about to ruin it now.
The problem? She can’t stop thinking about him, fantasizing about him, wanting him. She quickly realizes that the only way to maintain her good-girl status is to unleash the wild woman inside of her, temporarily of course, and finish what they‘d started so long ago. She’s looking for really great sex and closure, but what she finds is really great sex and a love strong enough to tame even the baddest bad boy!
I hope you enjoy Houston and Sarah’s story! Drop me a line and let me know what you think. You can write to me c/o Harlequin Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada. Or visit me online at www.kimberlyraye.com or at www.gotsexauthors.com.
Happy reading!
Kimberly Raye
The Fantasy Factor
Kimberly Raye
For my best buds,
Debbie Villanueva, Angela Fitch & Christine Kos. Y’all are the greatest friends a girl could ask for!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
1
SHE NEEDED A REALLY GOOD orgasm in a really bad way.
That was the only reason Sarah Buchanan kept stealing glances at the hot, handsome, sexy-as-sin cowboy standing at the bar of Cadillac’s most notorious honky-tonk. Otherwise, she would have kept her gaze to herself and her attention fixed on the five women seated at the table with her.
She smiled and busied herself taking a drink of the Diet Coke she’d ordered. The cool liquid slid down her throat, but it did nothing to ease her pounding heart or the craving in the pit of her stomach. Her gaze slid sideways again, seeking out the western shirt and Wranglers. There.
Her gaze lifted, drinking in the sight of him, from the straw Resistol perched on top of his short-cropped blond head, down over the western shirt that outlined his broad, powerful shoulders, the large rodeo belt buckle that glittered at his trim waist, the tight jeans that cupped his crotch and hugged his powerful thighs, to the tips of his worn brown cowboy boots.
Houston Jericho was hot and hunky and he practically guaranteed a top-notch, first-class, screaming-good orgasm.
She knew that firsthand because she’d been on the receiving end, not once but three times. Three hot, wild, wicked times.
Of course, that had been a long time ago, and Sarah had since traded hot, wild and wicked for lukewarm, tame and boring. She’d given up her bad-girl tendencies—along with her sexy clothes and her favorite red leather cowboy boots—and completely changed her image.
Houston, however, looked as hot and wild and wicked as ever, his sensual lips crooked in a grin, his stance easy and relaxed and so damned sexy.
She got the distinct impression that he’d only gotten better with age.
“…your turn.” The female voice drew her attention and she forced her gaze to the blonde who sat across the table from her. Janice Alcott was a corporate oil executive from Houston, and had, at one time, been the vice president of the Chem Gems, the only academic club at Cadillac High, a school where football and cheerleading had been considered hot and everything else—particularly anything that involved a textbook—not. “Looks like Maddie—” she pointed to the blonde sitting next to her, their once-upon-a-time president who’d traded her frumpy high school image and shy demeanor for a svelte new figure and a tight leather halter top “—isn’t going to nail this one. That means you only need five points to beat her.”
They were on the last round of Who’s the Baddest Babe?—the sexy board game that had been the center of tonight’s bachelorette party honoring Cheryl Louise, the youngest Chem Gem, who was tying the knot first thing tomorrow.
Cheryl had been a member of the club via her older sister, Sharon, who’d been the smartest girl in school and the founder of their group. She’d also been one of Sarah’s closest friends.
Until Sharon had wrapped her car around a telephone pole a few days before graduation. Maddie had been in the driver’s seat, and she’d walked away with only a few scratches, thanks to the steering wheel. She’d been lucky.
As lucky as Sarah herself, who would most certainly have been crammed into the passenger seat with Sharon when the dashboard had caved in—had her grandmother not grounded her yet again, and sentenced her to her room for the weekend.
“Child, why can’t you be more like your mother? She was always such a sweet girl. Always thinking of others and making straight A’s and doing me proud. Why, you wouldn’t catch her swiping the school mascot the night before a football game. She always used her head.”
Because Lorraine Foster Buchanan had not only been the smartest girl in her class, she’d also been perfect. She’d always said the right things and worn the right clothes and married