What You Desire (Anything for Love 1)

“Now my mind is busy concocting all sorts of lascivious images. Should such a scandalous event ever occur, there must be some way I’d be able to reclaim it.”

“Oh, she has her price. But you will have to wait to find out what it is?”

Thank you!

Thank you for reading What You Desire. If you’d like to be the first to find out about new releases and catch a peek at preview chapters, then why not head over to my website — www.adeleclee.com — and sign up for my monthly newsletter.

If you would like to read an excerpt from my next book, Lost to the Night, please turn the page.

You can read Madame Labelle’s and Marcus Danbury’s story in What You Propose which will be available in March 2016.

Adele x

Coming Soon!

Lost to the Night

(The Brotherhood Series, Book 1)

Chapter 1

A tavern in Schiltach, Bavaria, 1818

Alexander Cole’s blood gushed through his veins like hot, molten lava. The sweet fire that consumed him had nothing to do with the buxom wench at his side, merrily massaging his cock.

“You like it,” she giggled playfully, shaking her fleshy wares as if they were easy to miss.

Alexander groaned as she tightened her grip and nuzzled his ear. Yet he continued to stare at the woman sitting on the opposite side of the tavern.

He’d noticed her walk in minutes earlier. She’d not ordered a drink, but sat shrouded in a sapphire-blue cloak, boldly watching him. Was she aware of the eager hand pleasuring him beneath the table? Was that the reason she stared?

Alexander.

Despite downing copious amounts of wine and ale, his mind suddenly stilled, the noise of the boisterous crowd drowned out by a soft sibilant whisper. He heard his name echoing through the silent chambers of his mind: a siren’s call — luring him, drawing him, forcing him to follow.

Alexander.

He glanced around the crude room, its stone walls and low beams relics of a bygone era, searching for Reeves and Lattimer. Reeves was asleep on the wooden bench, his fingers wrapped around the handle of a tankard as he cuddled it to his chest. Two weeks of drunken debauchery had definitely taken its toll. Through the cloudy mist of stale tobacco smoke, he spotted Lattimer climbing the stairs. The eager wench was pulling him up by his hand, his reluctance due to an unsteady gait as opposed to a lack of enthusiasm.

Alexander.

He heard his name again, the seductive tones of a woman’s sated whisper dragging him back to the mysterious creature across the room.

The wench at his side continued pumping, yet his focus moved to the enchantress, who had lowered the hood of her cloak to reveal a mane of silky golden tresses. He sucked in a breath, captivated by her full red lips and porcelain skin. Drinking in the sight, he groaned as she put the tip of her tongue to her lips and moistened the entrance to her mouth.

Compelled by a sudden wave of disgust, he slapped his hand over the wench’s sweaty fingers.

“Oh, you want to help.”

“No,” he growled pushing her hand away, his desire for a stranger the motivating factor.

He threw a few coins onto the table and hastily buttoned the fall of his breeches.

The golden-haired goddess smiled, raised her hood and moved gracefully to the door before escaping out into the night.

As though connected by an invisible thread, he followed her to the door and yanked it open, ignoring the wench’s cries of protest — jealousy being a trait he despised.

Rain lashed against the solid oak door and he winced as it pelted his face, quick and sharp, almost knocking him back. He could just make out his quarry crossing the muddy road, heading towards a carriage. Pulling his coat more firmly across his chest, he snuggled into it and braved the weather — some strange force urging him to take the next step.