Author Sportlight: Lexxie Couper: Breathless For You TEASER 2


Breathless for You – Lexxie Couper Teaser 2

Another cold ribbon laced through her, this one bitter with self-contempt, and she let out a wry laugh. “I’ve got a lot of baggage, Doc. Screwed-up baggage. None of it you want anything to do—”

He silenced her with his lips and swept his tongue into her mouth, the kiss as hungry and as fierce as it was unexpected. He balled his hands in her shirt at the base of her spine and yanked her to him, a primitive taking of that which he wanted.


She groaned, pressed her palms to his chest and, for a staggering moment, tried to fight the concentrated pleasure rushing through her.

And a heartbeat later, she surrendered to it, incapable of doing anything else but.

She raked her hands up his chest, lashing his tongue with hers. He deepened their kiss, his hunger evident not just in his ravenous lips but in the ungentle way he grabbed her arse and ground his erection to the curve of her sex.

She groaned, the rigid pole pushing her own desire to a feverish point.

Just this once. She’d give herself just this one time. This one time to lose herself in what could have been…

Scoring her nails over his shoulders, down his pecs, she teased his nipples—puckered into hard points—through his shirt. He hissed in a breath against her lips, his cock pulsing at her touch. She pinched his nipples again, a quick tug before dragging her nails down his ribcage, his sides, to the waistband of his jeans.

She wanted him naked. Wanted him naked and inside her.


Her heart raced with the need.

Her whole body burned with it. Every nerve ending, every molecule.

Hooking her fingers into his shirt, she pulled its hemline free of his jeans. Slipped her hands beneath the fine cotton and captured his nipples—skin on skin.

“Fuck, Tash,” Matt groaned, bucking as she pinched the pebbled points again. “That feels—”

She yanked her hands free of his shirt, grabbed the front and tore it open, uncaring of his buttons.

Before he could respond, she smoothed her hands up the subtle six-pack of his stomach, skimmed her fingers over the knotted white path of the scar marring his ribcage, and closed her lips around his right nipple.

“Holy fuck,” he ground out, tangling his fingers in her hair. “Holy fuck.”

She sucked his nipple into her mouth, closed her teeth around it and sucked again.

He bucked again. Bucked and cursed and grabbed at her belt buckle.

She straightened, tasting every inch of the muscular column of his throat, the stubble-roughened line of his jaw as she helped him remove her belt.

He tore at her clothes with desperate hands, yanking her T-shirt up over her head with rough impatience. She did the same, shucking his shirt from his shoulders even as she tried to toe off her boots.

With a horny laugh, he dropped to his knees, grabbed one foot and tugged her boot from her foot.

She curled her fingers into his armpits and pulled him back up, crushing his mouth with hers. She didn’t want to stop kissing him. She didn’t want to not have his lips, his tongue against hers. Even if it did mean she was still wearing one boot.

As if aware of her insatiable hunger, he worshiped her mouth with his, unzipping her jeans as he did so. His hands replaced the snug denim wrapping her hips, his fingers sliding over the curve of her arse cheeks.

She arched into his possessive touch, rolling her sex against the firm pole of his erection still restrained by his trousers. Its unyielding length sent liquid heat to her pussy and she dropped her hands to his fly.