Excerpt from Pitch Black: Ellora's Cavemen 2009

I'm thrilled to announce the release of Pitch Black in Ellora's Cavemen Flavors of Ecstasy III anthology along with fellow authors Angelia Sparrow, Cheryl Dragon, Courtney Bee, Lyla Sinclair, Naomi Brooks, Sherry James

Here's a little taste (or tease?) of Pitch Black.

Blurb:
Breathless seduction in a glass elevator above a darkened Kiev covers up deactivation of Katherine Belaya’s implanted GPS tracker. Nicholai Rostov may have just saved her life or led her into a trap set by the Russians. Her lust for him is simple nerves, adrenaline pumped high by threat of bullets. As they fight for survival, Kate's trust in Nick may be the only thing that’s keeping them alive.

Excerpt:

Copyright © FIONA JAYDE, 2009

Tucking a knife into a special pocket in her pants—a girl could never be too careful—Kate exited her room and nearly collided with one of Dubrov’s bodyguards. The one she’d kissed the night before.

Her blush was hot just like the air. “Excuse me, Nicholai.” She murmured it in Russian, feeling her body temperature following suit. He wasn’t gorgeous—not Hollywood gorgeous, at least. A lean, long body, hard but not too thick under the dark German suit that was becoming standard wear for bodyguards and businessmen in this part of the world.

She couldn’t quite tell the color of his eyes—gray, green or blue. His hair—dark blond—was cropped close to his skull and not spiked up like most men did these days. His cheekbones were Slavic high, his lips unsmiling and straight, and firm and tempting when he’d kissed her on the balcony last night. And like an idiot she’d lost her head and let him, knowing that anyone could see them through the sliding doors.

He wedged in after her into the glass deathtrap that was the elevator. Raised a blond eyebrow as if asking her where she’d like to go.

“Umm… Lobby please.” She really should stop staring at him, Kate thought, and ran a hand through the loose blonde strands of hair that had escaped her braid. If he had known exactly who he had been playing tonsil hockey with, he’d probably have shot her on the spot. With any luck, she would be on a plane to Moscow by tomorrow.

She focused on the lights of downtown Kiev spread before her—and not on the man who crossed his arms across his chest while the elevator gently glided down.

Then time suddenly stopped and the lit city became a dark bottomless pit.

Another blackout. Kate pressed her hands to the surprisingly cool glass and concentrated on her breathing. Her senses went to high alert, as if somehow the outage affected her directly.

Except it did. There was a man with her—a man who smelled of soap and aftershave and somehow managed to be standing much closer than she’d expected. Silence settled around them like a warm blanket, the only sounds Kate heard were her own heartbeat and his soft, steady breaths.

“Power outage,” he whispered in perfect English, his mouth a hairsbreadth from her ear. Too close for any semblance of sanity.

“Hopefully it’ll turn back on soon.” Her voice matched his in softness. Kate wondered if he heard the tremble in it.

“We have a little while.”

She felt his breath over her cheek and then his mouth found hers. Sweet, firm, and gentle. The shock of it had her melting against him. She let him press her back against the glass, his body—God, it was so solid—fitted along hers. Fleetingly she thought of the last time he’d kissed her, the hunger she’d felt in his hands and mouth. This was subtly different, tender and somehow calculated and as erotic as all hell.

His hands were light over her bare arms, stroking, just stroking, close to her breasts, nearly brushing at their sides. Cruising his lips over her mouth, her jaw, her throat, nibbling, sampling. The stubble on his skin rasped delicately at her flesh, and she gasped for breath as his teeth grazed the tendon on her neck. The heat around her was nothing to what pooled inside her belly.

Between her clenching thighs, she felt herself already creaming. She should do…something. Not stand there like some dumbstruck teenager. Except her body became pliant, languid. His.

Another ragged breath as he put both his hands around her throat, long fingers cupping her nape under her hair, thumbs stroking her neck while she swallowed.

And still she couldn’t see him.

“Let me touch you.” His growl was a soft promise in her ear.

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