Friday, June 7, 2013

Sandra Marton Introduces the Wilde Sisters

Emily: Sense and Sensibility
(The Wilde Sisters) 
by Sandra Marton Excerpt


Emily Wilde has led a privileged life. Now she’s trying to make it on her own in Manhattan. 
Marco Santini grew up dirt poor in a Sicilian slum. Now he has everything. He’s gorgeous. He’s rich. He’s powerful. And he has all the beautiful women a man could ask for. 
Then, one rainy night, he sees a woman standing alone on a deserted New York street corner. Emily is clearly in need of help, but she’s not foolish enough to step into Marco’s chauffeured Mercedes. It takes a lot of convincing before she lets him take her to her apartment. He swears he’s not going to do anything he shouldn't and he means it--but she’s in his arms before they can stop themselves. 
Still, it’s only a kiss, just one kiss in a moment torn out of time. That’s what they both think. 
But Fate has other plans, starting with an unexpected job offer and a business trip to Paris that explodes in a passion so hot it will change everything--everything but the web of lies that traps them both.


She walked to him, curled her fingers into his shirt, rose on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. He didn’t move. Didn’t touch her. He stood tall and straight and for what seemed the longest moment of her life, she thought she’d made a mistake. 

Then he groaned, gathered her into his arms and captured her lips with his.

The earth spun. 

She clung to him more tightly because if she didn’t, surely she would fall. 
He whispered her name against her mouth; she whispered his and he cursed softly and swung her up into his arms. 

She buried her face against his throat. Wound her arms around his neck. Trembled as he carried her across the room to a long, wide sofa and lowered her to it. 

What are you doing? a voice inside Marco said. 

She was all the things he’d thought. Naïve. Unsophisticated. He could tell by the way she was responding to him. Nothing held back. Nothing of the temptress. She was making little sounds that went straight through him, whimpers of need that a woman with more experience would not so readily make the first time a man took her in his arms to make love to her. 

And this was his office. He didn’t bring his personal life into this space. Never. Never, he thought, and then he stopped thinking, sank to his knees in front of her, drew her forward and kissed her forehead. Her eyes, her mouth. Dio, that mouth! He caught her bottom lip between his teeth, bit lightly and she opened to him, offered him her sweet taste. 

“Please,” she whispered, “Marco, please…” 

He groaned, thrust his hands into her hair. The band with which she’d secured the ponytail broke; her hair tumbled loose, fell over his fingers like fine silk. He buried his face in the shining strands and then he took her mouth again, kissed her and kissed her, each time taking the kiss deeper. 

Finally, he drew back, framed her face with his hands and said her name. She opened her eyes. They were blurred with desire, the pupils enormous. 
He felt the last of his self-control slipping away.

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