Drilling Down Deep
Vanny Donald was determined to prove her father did not sabotage the oil rig they both worked on. She agrees to copy files from Michael Reynolds super rich executive who is thinking of buying the company that owns the oil rig where she works. But when she encounters him sparks fly between the two and she agrees to go up to his penthouse. It was simple copy files and get out but the attraction between them wasn’t simple. She never expects she will ever see him again.
Michael cannot get visions of the night he spent with “Shelley” out of his head. When he tours the oil rig of the company he just bought he encounters Vanny who is not that impressed with his wallet and lets him know it. But there was something familiar about her.
Someone wants something that Michael has and will stop at nothing including murder to get what they want.
DRILLING DOWN DEEP by Angela Claire is an erotic romantic suspense that readers will be turning pages to find out who is behind the sabotage. The love scenes between Vanny and Michael are so hot that readers will be checking their fingers for burn marks from their reading devices. I could not stop laughing when Vanny would call Michael out on his super rich lifestyle and when Michael would shoot back about her stubbornness.
DRILLING DOWN DEEP also made me wish I had read Michael’s sisters story as well. Loved the camaraderie between Samantha and her husband Vik. I also loved the other members of the Reynolds family as well. Luckily it seems that there are more brothers with more stories to fill our readers with in the future. I personally cannot wait to read the next one.
An Excerpt From: DRILLING DOWN DEEP
Copyright © ANGELA CLAIRE, 2013
All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
Michael hoped this revenge fuck was not going to turn into a bout of crying or lamenting or recriminations against herself or her cheating husband. This Shelly had seemed so hot and feisty down in the bar, but she was starting to look a little unsure now. To get her back on track, he leaned forward and ran a thumb along her pouty lower lip in preparation for his kiss. Oh so very nice and soft. When he tasted her, she opened her mouth willingly and he plunged his tongue in for a deep kiss, just the way he liked it. She tasted like the champagne and something more, something sweeter. His hand went from her nape to the long curve of her throat, stroking and then dipping down to trace her collar bone. She scooted closer as they kissed and her hands sifted through his hair, a light, casual touch that went straight to his cock.
Of course he preferred a more direct approach.
Taking one of her hands in his, he brought it down to his lap and just the graze of it against his crotch made him even harder. But she didn’t seem ready to go any further as yet. She pulled her hand back, though he didn’t let it go, and turned her head away at the same time.
He kissed her fingertips. “Your hands are very soft.”
“Gloves,” she said under her breath.
He tugged her back into a kiss while his fingers went quickly to the buttons on her short suit jacket. It was the kind that was completely fitted with no blouse underneath. Excellent. He had the jacket efficiently unbuttoned before she seemed to even realize it. Her hands went to still his own, but it was too late. They’d accomplished their purpose.
“Hey.” She broke away again.
Her eyes were very brown in the soft light of the penthouse and he wasn’t sure he liked whatever it was he was seeing in them.
Staring at her, he slowly slipped her jacket off, baring white shoulders and slender but surprisingly muscular arms. She was undoubtedly the kind of trophy wife who spent all her time at the gym keeping herself buff for her husband, who was probably a fat slob but three-carats rich enough.
Well, at least he wasn’t fat.
He leaned back against the sofa and admired the way her waist curved in. She wore a wispy black barely-there bra, the nipples of her full breasts clearly visible. As he watched, she took in a deep breath, as if she was getting up her nerve.
It struck him the wrong way.
Deliberately, he loosened his tie and slipped it off and then went to work on the buttons of his shirt, pulling the tail out of his pants. He wasn’t going to pretend this wasn’t all he wanted. What he’d brought her up here for. He’d been clear on that.
He took his shirt off, his cock pounding as she seemed to get into the spirit of things again, running her palms lightly along his pecs and to his shoulders. She murmured, “You’re not exactly what I expected.”
The kiss he pulled her into this time, his fingers gripping the hair at the back of her head and giving a little tug, was holding nothing back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and when he let her up for air, he stood up abruptly.
Initially intending to take her into the bedroom, instead he went over to the stereo system where he’d plugged in his iPod earlier and switched on a slow, sexy song from one of his playlists.
From the outside of everything, to the inside of you…
She smiled. “This is Counting Crows, right? I like this one. What’s it called again?”
“I don’t remember the names of songs. I just know whether I like them.”
He sat back down, stretching his legs out in front of him after a quick adjustment to the suddenly way-too-tight crotch of his pants. He kicked his shoes off as well. She looked at him uncertainly.
“You said you’re celebrating your separation, Shelly. So do it. Get up and show me how sexy you are. Dance for me. And lose the rest of your clothes while you’re at it.”
Her head cocked to one side. “You want me to strip for you?”
“No. I don’t want you to. I’m ordering you to.”
She smiled. He didn’t.
“Come on. Show me what you’re offering.”
Instead of looking cowed or submissive, her smile got wider. She looked…confident. And sexy as hell.
She got up and her hips began to sway, slowly at first and then more deliberately. Lifting her arms above her head, she moved in sync with the music, her eyes drifting closed.
He’d been treated to any number of erotic dance performances in his time, but he realized he’d never specifically requested one before. Women just seemed to gravitate to him, primping for him, trying to seduce him.
This dance wasn’t like that. Rhythmic and graceful as it was, she danced as if she thought she was alone. Not trying to lure him, but almost shutting him out. Tuned in to the music and her own body.
It was an incredible turn-on.
Counting Crows was on to the next song. He didn’t know the name of this one either.
If anything it should have been a better thing…
He watched for a minute or two then prompted, “Every guy in that bar tonight wanted you, Shelly. Show me why.”
Her husband was a fool. He had the thought, out of nowhere.
“Take your bra off.”
But it’s all inside of you…
She continued to dance, as if she hadn’t heard him and he repeated firmly, “Take it off. Show me your breasts.”
Her eyes opened, narrowed with desire, and then her hands went behind her back and, still dancing, she unsnapped the bra. Sliding the straps slowly down her shoulders, she shrugged it off, dropping it to the floor with a flourish.
He sucked in an involuntary breath.
I wish that I was anesthetized …
If he had to choose, he’d say he was a tits man. And hers were big and round and firm with pink nipples. Even from here, he could tell they were real, exactly as he preferred them.
He got up and went to the bar.
“Aren’t you going to dance with me?” Her voice was husky.
He shook his head, pouring a whiskey. “No.” Downing it in one gulp, he set the glass down and turned back to her. “I’m going to fuck you. Now unzip your skirt.”