Selena Kitt’s *Daddy's Favorites*—where naughty thoughts and wicked temptations bring the taboo fantasy to life.
Sexy, sultry India's passion in life is dancing, but she has another, deeper, secret desire. Her step daddy is an artist whose wife--India's famous classical ballerina mother--has grown tired of being his muse.
India burns for her step daddy, and when she finds her father secretly sketching her, she realizes he wants her, too.
Even though she knows it's oh-so-wrong, she makes up her mind to give in to her naughty feelings, tempting her way into his bedroom, dancing her way into his heart, and bringing that forbidden passion alive for them both.
Warning: This title contains shamelessly wicked displays of taboo sex so hot—careful!—it may just melt your ereader!
Word Count: 10,400
“Go back to sleep, India,” her stepfather whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you. You’re just so beautiful—I had to sketch you.”
She let her eyes fall closed, not wanting to ever disappoint him, but she couldn’t hide the smile that turned up her mouth as the word—beautiful—flitted through her brain.
She marveled at the power of his words. Why should they bring such heat, spreading through her limbs like warm honey? She spelled the word out in her brain, b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l, a vision of white bubble letters that dispersed into a fiery rain. She probably would have dismissed those words from anyone else, but from him, they were like magic.
Slowly, she unfurled. Rolling to her back, she stretched her arms out to her sides with a sexy yawn. She felt as if she was literally glowing under his gaze. The scratching of the pencil on the paper was hypnotic, the rhythm changing from long, lazy swipes to short, hurried ones. After studying his sketchbook today, she could see her body forming on the page without even looking at it. Small noises came from his throat, subtle groans followed by short, pondering sounds he often made when thinking out his current project as he worked on it. His noises made her want to moan out loud too.
The eroticism of the moment took her breath away.
It wasn’t long before her body was filled with the urge, the absolute need, to be touched—not just drawn. She watched him through eyes only opened to slits, through the thick, dark soot of her lashes. Robert had a scruffy, bohemian look about him. The rich, golden tan of his skin highlighted the course mix of chestnut brown, rich reds and subtle hints of dirty blond in his stubbly beard. He loved to work outside, bringing to life on paper to anything in nature that stood still long enough.
His pencil paused, the hand holding it rising to his chin to rub his beard as he tilted his head, his gaze moving over her body. Her skin prickled, a phantasmal static sensation, like being touched, not by hands, but by just a look.
India’s eyes fluttered open and she met his gaze.
In that moment, which seemed to go on forever, they connected. India recognized the creative spark in his eyes, the longing and hunger there that only an artist could know. They’d always connected on that level. Her body was her instrument, the dance floor her canvas. She became pure self-expression, taking her body to its limits and back again. Robert saw that spark in her and fed it. The woman he’d married was a dancer, but Cecile studied what someone created for her, perfected the fluid movements of classical ballet, but the truth was, she didn’t have a creative bone in her body.
India and Robert were exactly alike.
Sitting up and sliding off the bed, her body inherently graceful with every movement, she walked to where he sat. He looked at her, mystified, conflicted, rubbing his finger over the hair on his chin as she approached. Neither of them spoke as she got down on her knees in front of his chair.
Robert ran his finger along her cheek, their eyes locked. Rising up, still on her knees, she reached out to touch his face as well, her hand trembling along his skin. When she went to pull it away, he cupped hers with his, holding her touch in place.
Looking at the light sparkling in his dark eyes, his chiseled features, full lips, she closed the distance that separated them, bringing her mouth to his. What started out as a light press of flesh against flesh soon became a heated fight to get as close as possible. Feeling the fire of the kiss throughout her body, she longed to be closer to him, to finally have him touch her for real instead of just in his imagination, or hers.
Reaching down as his tongue invaded and swept through her mouth, she grabbed the bottom of her tank top to pull it off. When she pulled back to get it over her head, he opened his eyes, and something happened. His hand clamped down on her arm. Her shirt was mostly off, a rush of cool air reaching the underside of her breasts, and she froze, awaiting his next move.
“India…” He swallowed, an audible click. “No…”
This book was added to our catalog on Wednesday 21 December, 2016.