Sex Scenes: Yes.
Seven chances to win my heart.
It’s not hard –
Don’t put ketchup on your eggs.
Don’t wear tasseled loafers.
For the love of all that’s Holy, don’t ogle the waitress.
Yet no one can get it right.
It’s Bexley’s game.
Correction - it’s her life.
A constant rotation of dates.
You might get one; you might get seven.
No one has ever gotten to eight.
There’s only one rule –
Don’t commit a dating sin.
I’ve watched for years and bided my time.
Now, it’s my turn to play.
And I play to win.
Tristan and Bexley story is the perfect best friends to soulmates tale.
She was stuck in a rut and has been for a while, her dates never lead to anything other than disappointment. She has set this system up where no one can win, because her standards are so high. Her role model is her perfect parent's relationship so there is no way any guy can ever get close to winning.
That is until Tristan decides that he is done with being a bystander and he wants in the dating roulette. Ever since he met her he's known that he was never leaving her side, and even though he has convinced himself that they are just friends, he has always been waiting for her.
Together they embark themselves into a crazy ride to determine if they are meant to be or if their friendship will change forever.
The problem is that the pressure is on for both of them, Tristan is terrified of making a mistake that will get him kicked out of the dating roulette and Bex is killing herself over what would happen if he figures out they don't belong together.
I have no idea how they stayed apart for so long, given the crazy chemistry they seem to have. When they decided they were doing this, they couldn't keep their hands of each other, it was like all the passion they had been holding in was released at the same time, burning them up with lust.
Tristan overcoming his doubts and his past might be what makes them or breaks them.
D. Kelly, author of The Acceptance Series, The Illusion Series, and standalone companion novels Chasing Cassidy and Sharing Rylee, was born and raised in Southern California. She’s a wife, mom, dog lover, taxi, problem fixer, and extreme multi-tasker. She married her high school sweetheart and is her kids’ biggest fan.
Kelly has been writing since she was young and took joy in spinning stories to her childhood friends. Margaritas and sarcasm make her smile, she loves the beach but hates the sand, and she believes Starbucks makes any day better.
A contemporary romance writer, D. Kelly’s stories revolve around friendship and the bond it creates, strengthening the love of the people who share it.
“Has anyone come in, angel?” I ask. She gives a high-pitched whimper at the pet name. She likes it.
“No.” She gasps breathlessly.
“Good, because you’ve been teasing me tonight, and now it’s time for some payback.” As I bring my lips to hers, I slip a hand under her skirt. She stifles a cry when my fingers dance along the seam of her silky panties. She’s hot and wet in all the best places. I’d rather be doing this with my tongue, but if I play my cards right, my patience will be rewarded.
Our kiss escalates, and I slide my hand into her panties. My fingers glide easily through her excitement, and she kisses me deeper as I circle her clit. She’s a ball of pent-up sexual frustration, and it’s hot as hell. I thrust a single finger inside her, flick her clit, and pinch her nipple in the perfect combination. Bexley explodes, and I swallow her cries as her pussy pulses around my digit. She rides my hand through her orgasm, and I slide my hand out from under her shirt and caress her cheek. As her orgasm subsides, our kiss slows.
“Tristan,” she says softly, pulling back from our kiss to look at me.
When I slip my hand out of her panties, she reaches for a few napkins she stuffed in her purse earlier. She watches, eyes locked on mine, as I bring my finger to my mouth and suck her sweet essence from my skin with a tortured groan.
“I can’t believe you’re doing that right here,” she hisses. The theater is still empty, but even if it wasn’t, I’d give no fucks at this point.
“And I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on your taste for ten fucking years.” With both hands, I pull her face to mine and kiss her like the starving man I am. Our tongues entwine, and my cock aches with the knowledge I’m sharing her flavor with her.
She pulls away, gasping. “This is so damn dirty.”
I pull her close until our foreheads touch. “You think this is dirty? Wait until I come in your mouth and then devour your lips after. You can call it dirty, carnal, depraved, but I call it a fantasy fulfilled, and I can’t wait.”
She bites my bottom lip and soothes the sting with her tongue.
Our sexual chemistry is incredible, but the small part of my conscience that’s been whispering to me all night is becoming louder. Bexley isn’t a hot hookup for the night—she’s someone I could easily see myself building a future with. As sexy as it is to get her off in public, she deserves to know her worth. “Bex, I am sorry. You deserved a much better second date than this.”
Her fingers lace through my curls, and she tugs my hair gently and smiles. “Are you kidding me? This is exactly the date I wanted. I know we’re pretending in a sense, but . . .”
“Hey, this might be a form of pretending, but my feelings are real, and if I make it past date seven, you better bet the boyfriend title is a given. I want you to be mine, Bexley. Now I need to figure out how not to fuck that up.”
After placing a brief kiss on my lips, she gets comfortable in her seat and leans her head on my shoulder with a sigh. “That makes two of us. If it helps, you’re getting extra credit for the orgasm that was above and beyond.”