PRAISE FOR
NEED YOU TONIGHT
“There’s nothing like an ugly duckling who grows up to be smooth and sexy to make you shiver, and Kade Vandergriff does just that . . . Bottom line, readers need to read Need You Tonight!”
—RT Book Reviews (4 stars)
“Again, Loren does an incredible job with portraying the BDSM lifestyle . . . Another great installment of the Loving on the Edge series.”
—The Book Pushers
“Roni Loren knows how to get the reader to connect to her characters and love them from beginning to end.”
—shebookblogs.com
CAUGHT UP IN YOU
“Caught Up in You is Roni Loren’s best book to date. An angsty backstory made beautiful by a hero who doesn’t know how perfect he is. Don’t miss this Ranch treat!”
—Carly Phillips, New York Times bestselling author of Dare to Submit
“Roni Loren succeeds in creating an immediate chemistry and sexual tension between Kelsey and Wyatt that builds throughout the story. I was engaged from the first scene in the diner . . . The emotional growth of Ms. Loren’s characters really shines through.”
—Fiction Vixen
FALL INTO YOU
“Steamy, occasionally shocking, and relentlessly intense, this book isn’t for the faint of heart. But with fiery, emotional characters and their blisteringly passionate relationship, it is also one that isn’t easily forgotten.”
—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars)
“Fast-paced and riveting with clever plot twists. Loren writes vivid descriptions, and Fall into You is a hot erotic romance.”
—USA Today
“Fall into You is an erotic romance with heart and serious heat, one that I could not put down. I adore Grant and Charli, and think they may be one of my favorite couples of 2013.”
—Romance Novel News
MELT INTO YOU
RITA finalist for Best Contemporary Single Title Romance
“Quite a ride. The story is heartfelt and pulls you into the relationships with the characters. Melt into You takes the traditional version of romance and twists it so that the idea of three individuals in a relationship seems perfectly right.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Roni Loren’s books are masterful, story-driven, sensual, and very erotic . . . Definitely one of my have-to-get-as-soon-as-possible series!”
—Under the Covers Book Blog
“Loren does an incredible job portraying the BDSM lifestyle in a sexy and romantic way . . . Loren should definitely be put on the must-read list.”
—The Book Pushers
CRASH INTO YOU
“Loren writes delicious, dark, sensual prose . . . Multidimensional characters, a very complicated relationship, and suspense combine to make Crash into You unique and emotional—an impressive debut from Loren.”
—USA Today
“Revved up and red-hot sexy, Roni Loren delivers a riveting romance!”
—Lorelei James, New York Times bestselling author of the Mastered series
“Hot and romantic, with an edge of suspense that will keep you entertained.”
—Shayla Black, New York Times bestselling author of the Wicked Lovers novels
“A sexy, sizzling tale that is sure to have readers begging for more! I can’t wait for Roni Loren’s next tantalizing story!”
—Jo Davis, author of the Sugarland Blues novels
“This steamy, sexy yet emotionally gripping story has the right touch of humor and love to keep readers coming back for a second round.”
—Julie Cross, author of the Tempest novels
“Sexy as hell, gutsy as all get out—Crash into You has balls! . . . Loren understands the dark beauty of D/s and treats her characters with respect even as she takes them to the very edge of what they and the reader can handle. I can sum this book up in one word: Damn!”
—Tiffany Reisz, international bestselling author of the Original Sinners series
“A stunning first work. I read it straight through in one sitting, and I dare you to even attempt to put it down.”
—Cassandra Carr, author of Awakening
Titles by Roni Loren
CRASH INTO YOU
MELT INTO YOU
FALL INTO YOU
CAUGHT UP IN YOU
NEED YOU TONIGHT
NOT UNTIL YOU
NOTHING BETWEEN US
Novellas
STILL INTO YOU
FOREVER STARTS TONIGHT
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
USA • Canada • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • China
penguin.com
A Penguin Random House Company
This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
Copyright © 2015 by Roni Loren.
Excerpt from Call on Me by Roni Loren copyright © 2015 by Roni Loren.
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
BERKLEY® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.
The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.
eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-62982-6
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Loren, Roni.
Nothing between us / Roni Loren. — Berkley trade paperback edition.
pages ; cm. — (A loving on the edge novel ; 7)
ISBN 978-0-425-26857-5 (softcover)
1. Triangles (Interpersonal relations)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3612.O764N69 2015
813'.6—dc23
2014035755
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley trade paperback edition / January 2015
Cover art: Sunlit blinds © Patryk Kosmider / Shutterstock.
Cover design by Diana Kolsky.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Every book is a labor of love, and each story has its own unique challenges. For Colby’s book, I knew I was taking on a big story line with a lot of moving parts (pun intended, lol), so I expected bumpy roads and blocks along the way. And boy, was I right. But I’m blessed to have people around me who keep me (somewhat) sane and who don’t let me burn manuscripts when I’m convinced I’ve mucked it all up.
So, thank you to my writing support group—Julie Cross, Jamie Wesley, and Taylor Lunsford—who were always there with advice, cheerleading, and a sympathetic ear (or an emergency beta read) when I was fighting to get this book just right.
To my family, for always believing in me and what I’m doing. I never take that enthusiasm and support for granted.
To my son, for being patient with Mommy and making her laugh when she’s in writer-deadline mode.
To my agent, Sara Megibow, for all your positivity and encouragement.
&nb
sp; To my editor, Kate Seaver, for letting me take risks in my books and for uttering the sweet words (when I warned her this book was running long): “Don’t worry about going over word count. Tell the story you need to tell. More words just means more for readers.” Thank you!
And to my husband, Donnie, for being there always—for everything. Love ya, babe.
CONTENTS
Praise for Titles by Roni Loren
Titles by Roni Loren
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgments
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
Special Excerpt from Call on Me
About the Author
ONE
12:35 a.m.—Spring
Georgia Delaune had never been particularly drawn to illegal activity. Or taking risks. Or, okay, fine—sexually deviant behavior. She was woman enough to admit what this was. So finding herself hiding in the dark, peering around the curtains of her second-story window with a set of binoculars, should’ve tipped her off that she was officially losing her shit.
But since moving into the house on Fallen Oaks Lane six months earlier, she’d known this moment was coming. Before now, she’d convinced herself that she’d only been catching inadvertent peeks and unintentional glimpses. Her neighbor would surely shut his curtains if he didn’t want to risk being seen, right?
She groaned, lowered the binoculars, and pressed her forehead to the window frame. God, now she was blaming the victim. He gets naked in the confines of his own home. A home that’s on a treed corner lot with tons of privacy and a seven-foot-tall fence. How dare he!
This was so screwed up. What if he saw her? He could call the cops, and she’d be slapped with some Peeping Tom charge—or Peeping Tammy, as the case may be. That’d be an epic disaster. Especially when the cops found no information on a Georgia Delaune. Plus, afterward, she’d have to move because there’d be no facing her neighbor again. Not after he knew what she did at night. And there was no way in hell she was moving. It had taken too much time, effort, and planning to find this spot, to finally feel even a smidgen of security and safety. These walls were her only haven, and she had no intention of leaving them.
But despite knowing the risks, when she saw a lamp flick on and light glow in the window of Colby Wilkes’s bedroom, she found herself dragging a chair over to the window and lifting the binoculars to her eyes. It took a second to adjust the focus, but when the lenses cleared, the broad, wet shoulders of her dark-haired neighbor filled the view. Her stomach dipped in anticipation.
He wasn’t alone.
She’d known he had friends over. She’d seen the group going in when she’d closed her living room blinds earlier that night. Two women and three guys, plus Colby. Later, she’d heard water splashing and the murmuring of voices, so she’d gone into her backyard for a while to listen to the distant sounds of life and laughter. That world seemed so foreign to her now. Being surrounded by people, having friends over, relaxing by the pool. She couldn’t see anything from her backyard. Colby’s pool area was blocked by the house and bordered by trees. So she’d lain in her lounge chair out back, closed her eyes, and had imagined she was a guest at his party, that she was part of that laughter. And she’d also found herself wondering what would happen afterward.
Now she knew. Colby had stepped into his bedroom, obviously fresh from the pool with his dark hair wet and only a towel knotted around his waist. And he had company with him. One of Colby’s friends, a tall blond guy who was also sporting a towel, had followed him in. And then there was a woman. She wore nothing at all. Georgia’s lip tucked between her teeth, heat creeping into her face. She so shouldn’t be watching this. But she couldn’t turn away. She’d learned rather quickly that her dear neighbor, despite his affable grin, Southern-boy charm, and straitlaced job, was a freak in the bedroom. Threesomes were only part of it. The man was dominant to the core. Considering her last relationship, that alone should’ve turned her off, sent her running. Guys who wanted control. Fuck, no.
But the first time she’d caught sight of Colby bringing a flogger down on a lover’s back, Georgia had been transfixed. She’d been completely stuck on her latest writing project at the time. But after watching Colby drive a woman into a writhing, begging state, Georgia had gone into her office, opened a new document, and written until the sun had broken through the curtains the next morning. Before she knew it, her thriller-in-progress had taken a decidedly erotic turn. Thankfully, her editor had loved the new direction. So now Georgia, in her guiltiest moments, told herself these stolen moments at the window were all in the name of book research.
Yeah. Even her sleep-deprived brain didn’t buy that one.
The guilt wasn’t enough to make her stop, though. Especially now when Colby was grabbing for the knot on his towel. She held her breath. The terry cloth fell to the floor at Colby’s feet, and everything inside Georgia went tight. Holy heaven above. She’d watched—oh, how she’d watched—but never before had she been able to see everything in such intimate detail. The binoculars transported her, took her by the hand and dragged her into that room with those strangers. Colby was right there in front of her—strong, beautiful, aroused. His hand wrapped around his cock and stroked ever so slowly, taunting her with unashamed confidence. No, not her. The woman. God, Georgia should look away. But need rolled through her like thunder from an oncoming storm, her fingers tightening around the binoculars.
The other man had stripped, too, and although he was gorgeous in his own right with his polished, camera-ready good looks, Georgia was drawn to the rough-around-the-edges brawn of her neighbor. Every part of Colby hinted at the wildness he hid beneath his surface—dark wavy hair that was a little too long, the close-cropped beard that shadowed his jaw, and a body that looked like he could bench-press a Buick. He was the opposite of the pressed and creased, Armani-clad businessmen she’d been attracted to in her former life. He was the guy you’d be wary of on first glance if you ran into him in a dark alley—the cowboy whose hat color you couldn’t quite determine straightaway.
Perhaps that was why she was so fascinated with him, despite the fact that he was a man who wanted what she could never give. She’d learned that danger often hid behind the gloss of an urbane smile and perfectly executed Windsor knot. Colby was none of that. But regardless of the reason for her mixed-up attraction, she couldn’t stem the crackle of jealousy that went through as the other man laced his fingers in the woman’s hair and guided her to take Colby into her mouth.
The v
iew of Colby’s erection disappearing between the lips of some other woman was erotic. There was no denying that. But it also made Georgia’s jaw clench a little too hard. She could tell, even from the brief moments she’d been watching, that this woman belonged to Colby’s friend. They were a couple and Colby the third party. But it still activated Georgia’s He’s mine, bitch! reflex.
Georgia sniffed at her ridiculous, territorial reaction, and tried to loosen the tension gathering in her neck. Sure, he’s yours, girl. You can’t walk down the street without swallowing a pill first, much less start something if he were even interested in the weird, spying chick next door.
But she shoved the thought away. She didn’t want anything tainting these few precious minutes. This wasn’t about finding a hookup. Only when she stood at this window did she feel even a glimmer of her former self trying to break through. This was her gossamer-thin lifeline to who she used to be, to the capable and confident woman who would’ve never hidden in the dark.
Before long, the blond man eased the woman away from Colby and guided her toward himself, taking his turn. Georgia tilted the binoculars upward, finding Colby’s face instead of focusing on the scene between the other man and his woman. What she found lurking in his expression wasn’t what she expected. There was heat in Colby’s eyes, interest for sure, but as she stared longer, she sensed a distance in those hazel depths. Like he was there with them but other . . . separate. Alone.
It probably was only because the other two were a couple. Or maybe it was Georgia’s mind slapping labels on things to make herself feel better. But regardless, it made her chest constrict with recognition. She didn’t know what was going on in his head. Or how seeing his friends together made him feel. But she knew loneliness. And for those few seconds, she was convinced Colby did, too. She pressed her fingertip against the cool glass of the window, tracing the outline of Colby’s face. Needing to touch . . . something.
The glass might as well have been made of steel, the yards between the houses made of miles.
But she couldn’t walk away. The night went on and there she sat, watching the three lovers move to the bed, the woman being cuffed to the headboard. The two men lavished her with hands and mouths and tongues. It was like watching a silent symphony, the arching of the woman’s back the only thing Georgia needed to see to know exactly how these men were affecting their willing captive. The melancholy feelings that had stirred earlier had quickly been surpassed by ones much more base and primal. Georgia’s body was growing hot and restless, her panties going damp.