The Older Lover -- Extract

 

Nadine Leilani

 

#2 in the Lizzie in the Big City Series

 

Copyright © 2013 by Nadine Leilani, Love Conquers All Press, and Gold Egg Investing LLC.

Cover graphic design by Drew at idrewdesign on Fiverr.com.

Cover, book, and graphic design Copyright © 2013 by Nadine Leilani, Love Conquers All Press, and Gold Egg Investing, LLC.

The right of Nadine Leilani to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved.

Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

 

The Older Lover

 

"You little minx. I never thought, that is, I hoped..." He shivered, and Lizzie felt it travel through her own body.

"It's ok! I just want to show you that you don't have anything to be sad about. All being older means is you know a lot more fun things, right? Show me."

Lizzie felt a thrill of delight as she saw the effect her words had on him. When he grabbed her wrist and dragged her to his office she knew right then and there her panties would be ruined.

Harold's office contained muted designs, dominated by a solid antique mahogany desk that acted as the centerpiece and paid proper tribute to his British heritage. Carved from a single, massive piece of wood, it spoke of class and stability.

Only the desk's sheer weight kept it from skidding across the expensive carpet as Lizzie fell backwards across the top, knocking memos and faxes to the floor. Lizzie's denim skirt was hiked up around her waist, her jacket was crumpled by a potted plant and her blouse was unbuttoned to the waist.

Harold leaned over her with a congenial expression, as if he was looking over fourth quarter figures instead of contemplating ways to make her beg for mercy.

Lizzie went to pull him down for another one of those scathingly hot kisses when the phone rang.

They both froze: Lizzie in fear, Harold in mild surprise. The phone rang once more before Harold leaned closer to Lizzie's face, his warm spearmint breath tickling the hair by her ear.

"Aren't you going to get that?"

The End