Welcome back to Beauville, where anything is possible.
Here is a snippet of how it all started. A snippet from A Slow Burn, book 1 in my Stories from Beauville Series.
He smiled, and I swear my heart beat a little faster at the sight of his dimples. Joey and Treat were talking quietly amongst themselves leaving Jackson and me alone.
“City life too fast for you? My sister told me you’d moved back from New York.”
“Nah, just home for a while, taking a break. Joey didn’t tell me you were the sheriff. The badge looks good on you.”
Hell anything would look good on him, present company included.
He didn’t respond to my comment, just tipped his head forward again. That was one thing I didn’t really care for about southern boys; they were always so damned polite. However, I’d learned a few things while living in New York, and one of my most valuable lessons was to live in the moment. Snatch it up and run with it because who knew when opportunity was going to throw you down on a bed, hell the ground at my feet, and give it to me raw and dirty like I knew Jackson could.
“How long are you going to be in Beauville?”
I wasn’t going to beat around the bush. I know when a man wants me.
“On what, Annabelle,” my name was like gravel in his mouth. Like he was having a hard time talking to me, or maybe he was annoyed that I hadn’t given him a flat out answer. But damn his voice was darker, the drawl that all southern men came standard with became slower, affecting that place between my thighs I so badly wanted to introduce him to.
“On you, sugar.”
I watched as Jackson’s pupils dilated and his nostrils flared. I could flirt with the best of them and not even bat an eyelash. I knew I wanted him. I wanted him something fierce, and had for as long as I could remember.
“You taunting me, Annabelle?”
He took a step forward making me look up into his heated gaze. This conversation had taken a different kind of turn. I expected Jackson to be shocked, maybe even a little hesitant. But our harmless flirtation had become something altogether different, something sexy. Dare I call it foreplay?
Normally, I needed to be touched, coaxed into the horizontal mambo, but Jackson Storme could make me come in zero to ten, I was one hundred and fifty percent positive we were eye-fucking right out in the open for all to see. The man threw off animal magnetism in large doses. Someone needed to bottle his scent, which had somehow over powered my senses, and sell it at top dollar, he was that intoxicating. It was a combination of virile man and hot summer mornings that slowly heated, until finally by mid-afternoon you were dying of thirst, because it was too hot.
“Jackson Storme,” I smiled sweetly using my own southern drawl and said, “I would never-ever think to do such a thing.” I batted my lashes and turned in the direction of Joey and Treat, thinking I could get away. The plan was to have him eating out of the palm of my hand by the end of the day. But he only let me make it five steps before grabbing my arm and turning me around to face him. The skin on skin contact had my breath hitching and my eyes widening in apprehension. Maybe I wasn’t ready for Sheriff Jackson Storme. His face was hard as he peered down at me and frown lines began to form around the corners of his mouth as he pulled me closer to whisper into my ear.
“Ms. Macon, do have a care in how you tempt me. I’m not like those little boys in the city. You can’t and won’t control me, honey.”
©Tigris Eden All Rights Reserved, 2016