Today's guest is Sherry Perkins with her paranormal romance novel At the End of the Rainbow:
Eagerly going against all good advice, Morgan becomes more and more bound to Tiernan—by ties of lust and love and protection, and maybe even duty. But there is more to their attraction than Morgan can explain with her science textbooks, and more is going on in this sleepy village than she could ever have imagined.
She was once so sure that faerie stories were fiction. But there’s no denying the strange visions and dreams she’s been experiencing again since coming to this place. So many of the people she’s met—both those looking out for her welfare and those seeking to destroy her—seem to feel she is a special one, with powers that are only now coming fully into her possession. Will she finally begin to understand that herself before it’s too late?
His voice tickled her skin, and what he was whispering was somewhere between divine and orgasmic but much nearer to orgasmic. “Would you do that for me?” she whispered back, giggling. “Would you do it for me now?”
He didn’t answer her. He didn’t say nary a word, but he grinned. Then he began doing what he had whispered he would do to her, and that…that was orgasmic.
Afterward, lying together on the bed, Morgan felt what she expected was love. But since she had never been in love before, she wasn’t entirely certain. She felt…what? Safe. She felt safe in Tiernan’s arms. That was what she had been trying to tell Tiernan when he had whispered those things into her ear and distracted her from telling him what she was thinking.
Meanwhile, Tiernan nuzzled contentedly at the back of Morgan’s neck. His face was buried in her hair as they lay there together spooning, her big, warm arse nestled against him. Lying there together, he thought they fit together like…what? They fit together like a hand in a glove. Like a key in a lock. Tiernan smiled. They fit together like a man and a woman.
“Morgan, why did you call me here?” he asked, his mouth tickling the sensitive skin behind her ear. She responded by curling forward, pushing her arse on him and rubbing against him.
“Luv”—he laughed, his desire for her growing and quickly becoming apparent—“why did you call me here earlier?”
She turned around to face Tiernan. She looked into his eyes and made a low, throaty sound.
Morgan made the same sound again and slid her body slowly down over his belly. Her fingers touched the dark hairs that ran in a line from his umbilicus to the triangle of his pubic hair, a line of coarse hair that she called his happy trail. He watched her fingers touching him, and they made him very, very happy, but not nearly as happy as when she touched him with her mouth. Tiernan watched her and her mouth on him, and then he put his hands on the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair.
“Luv, why did you call me here?” he asked again, but she was doing something brilliant with her mouth and tongue. He very nearly came all over her face. To keep from doing exactly that, he grabbed at her, pulling her up by her hair.
He pulled her toward him so she was kneeling above him, her knees on either side of his hips. They were face to face. He looked into her eyes and said, “Why?”
Morgan didn’t answer him. She was thinking that Tiernan had a peculiar way of questioning her. Not that she didn’t like his interrogation methods, what with all that sweet sexual torture in between the interrogatives. She leaned forward and kissed him.
Not surprisingly, her mouth tasted like him. He took his hands out of her hair and put them on her waist. He positioned her where he wanted her. As she eased down onto him, he shifted his hands to grab at her arse cheeks. Her muscles tensed around him.
He grinned stupidly at her and said, “Tell me why. Why did you call me here, girl?”
Morgan arched her back and rode him. She supported herself against him, putting her hands palm down on his chest. She moved her pelvis against him while sliding herself from side to side and squeezing herself tighter with each smooth, sinuous movement. Her long hair fell around her face. She said, “I called you here because I need to know something.”
“Know what?” he asked, looking up from her hips and what she was doing to him. “Know that I cannot lie to you,” he said. “And I would never hurt you.”
“I know that,” Morgan said, her voice heavy with an emotion he had some difficulty identifying. She closed her eyes and moaned. Suddenly it didn’t seem so important to ask him about the marks on his back. The ones she had not put there. “I know you wouldn’t lie to me. I would bet my life on it,” she added softly, more to herself than to him.
“Do you?” he asked. “Do you really know that? Because I cannot lie to you, and I would never hurt you. Ask me, luv. Ask me what it is that you want to know.”
“I want to know…” She spoke slowly and with deliberation. “I want to know…I want you to tell me that you love me.”
“Love you? Bollocks. That’s not what you want to know,” Tiernan said, but it was true. He did love her whether he could say it out loud or not. However, showing her that he loved her, as he had said—that was a different matter altogether. Nonetheless, he was relatively sure that wasn’t what she was going to ask—she had been ready to ask him about the marks on his back. He was glad she hadn’t. Because he would rather die than break her heart with an explanation.
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Sherry Perkins has worked as a licensed practical nurse for more than thirty-five years and has experience in psychiatric/addictions nursing, nursing-care coordination, and risk management. She earned a BS in health sciences from Campbell University in Buies Creek, North Carolina, and has spoken at public health functions on topics such as addiction prevention and treatment, prevention of teenage opioid deaths, and connecting patients who are resistant to treatment with appropriate services.
A mother of four, Perkins lives with extended family on the Delmarva Peninsula, where she enjoys collecting shells and sea glass; reading mysteries, science fiction, and fantasy; doing organic gardening; and following the Dave Matthews Band around the East Coast. At the End of the Rainbow is the first in a series of books inspired by a visit to Northern Ireland and a yearning to return there one day.
Amazon Author Page