Excerpt of Searching for Beautiful by Jennifer Probst

“Too bad. I was hoping for some awesome sex secret.

Like telling me you really are into dominatrix
stuff.”

“Sex again, huh?”

“Must be the alcohol.” She finished up the fifth or
sixth beer, and enjoyed the heat coursing through her
veins. The fake happiness would soon turn to depression,
but she didn’t care for now. It had been so long
she let go of control and did something reckless.

“David said I sucked at sex.”

This time, he rolled over. Those stinging blue eyes
pierced into hers and his jaw tightened. “David was
an asshole and that’s why you left. You don’t suck at
sex.”

The giggles overtook her. “How do you know? We
never had sex. I probably do. I’m too in my head, always
waiting to see if I’m good enough until faking
orgasms became my art.”

Fury laced his words. “Let me repeat. He was an
asshole, and lousy in bed if he had you faking orgasms.
He messed with your head, babe. Don’t let him get
in.”

She waved a hand in the air and tried not to giggle
again. Oh yeah, she was drunk. It wasn’t so funny
before, but now it seemed kind of lame not to be able
to rock the bedroom with your fiancé. “S’okay. I’m
not the sexy type, you know? I’m vanilla. Boring. He
even said my kissing was like missionary sex every
night. But I know he didn’t mean to hurt my feelings.
He was just saying it to make me better, so I got some
books, but it still didn’t really work.”

His teeth clenched. She was fascinated by the
naked rage flickering over his face, the way he held
his body tight like he was about to explode like some
badass superhero. “I’m going to kill him.”

She almost laughed, but then he looked a bit too
serious. Gen frowned and reached out. She got lucky
and hit vision number one, which was real and not the
duplicate dancing in front of her. Her fingers stroked
his stubbled jaw in an effort to soothe his temper.
Damn, she used to be able to knock back five beers
in a night. Maybe because she had nothing in her
stomach and it had been a hell of a day. Why did he
look so mad again? Oh yeah, because she sucked at
kissing and he was gonna kill David. “Not his fault.
He never wanted to hurt me, told me that all the time.
I kinda made him do it by not listening.”

“You really believe this shit, Gen?”

“It’ll be okay. I’ll get a vibrator or something, or
maybe take lessons. Kate’s mom is a sex therapist, you
know. Maybe she can help.”

He grabbed her hand and squeezed tight. “I’m
gonna rip him apart piece by piece. You are good at
sex. You are good at kissing. Are you listening?”
She nodded hard. Ooooh, cool. Three faces now.
He was so nice to look at, she could stare at him all
day. So much better than evil Kermits. “Uh-huh.
You’re a good friend. My fault though. You don’t
know how bad I am at it.”

“Fuck.” The vicious curse emitted from his sexy
mouth. His warm breath hit her cheek. She hated
when he got pissy. “You better remember this tomorrow.”
“Huh?”

Suddenly, he loomed over her, pressing her back
into the ground, his hips cradling hers. Oh wow. His
body heat scorched through wet clothes and her bare
legs automatically opened in a primeval urge to
surrender.
He planted both hands on either side of her
head and lowered his mouth. What was he doing? His
delicious scent rose to her nostrils, and her hands
found their way to grip his hips, his damp skin sleek
and muscled beneath her touch.

Another curse escaped. He seemed grumpy and
torn as he stared at her, inches away from her mouth,
and Gen blinked a few times because his head kind
of floated around, and her body screamed for more
contact, please, just a bit more, and then he muttered,
“I’m gonna prove you’re good at this kissing thing,
okay?” and his mouth took hers.

She whimpered, literally whimpered, at the amazing
feel of those ultrasoft, smooth lips coasting over
hers with an expert grace and blistering heat that
made her toes curl. Oh, alcoholic visions were so
yummy! Wolfe, her best friend and and confidant, was
kissing her, and it was too good to be real, so it had
to be some sort of psychedelic mirage from too much
Sam Adams.

Her mind spun, tried to make sense of it, and
gave up.

Her body roared forward and seized control.

Hips arched, nails digging into his lower back, she
surrendered to the sensations rocketing in her core
and spreading like fire through her veins. He kissed
her for a while, until she was a soft, gooey mess beneath
him, and then his tongue parted her lips and
surged in.

She opened her mouth and met him halfway,
crazed for the full taste and essence of him. His
tongue pushed, stroked, and explored, taking her
deep. She moaned and reached for more. God she
wanted more, the taste of citrusy lemon and male
hunger pulling her under. He grew hard between her
thighs and she nipped at his bottom lip, sucking gently,
and he muttered something foul, deflowering her
mouth like she was a virgin asking to be ravished and
taken and f**ked.

Time stood still. It was too short, it was endless, it
was everything. Her head spun, her breasts grew achy
and tight, and she was so wet he could’ve slipped between
her thighs and slid home without a protest. She
made a sound deep in her throat when he slowly
pulled away, the wet slide of his tongue over hers
bestowing
one final taste.

She blinked. Blistering heat and fury and lust mingled
in those blue eyes. She felt eaten alive, scoured
raw, and Gen shook as the solid foundation underneath
her shifted and broke open.

“Are you listening, Gen?”

She couldn’t speak, so she managed a nod.

“You’re an amazing kisser. I could’ve f**ked you
right here and now and been the happiest guy in the
world. A guy has to be dead not to want you. David
is a piece of shit. Understood?”

She swallowed. Nodded again.

“Good.” He slid off her and she almost cried out
at the loss of his heat and pressure. The sky opened
and swallowed her up as utter exhaustion suddenly
hit her. Turned on, spent, emotions ripped and bleeding,
she grabbed for his hand not to lose physical contact,
and he interwove his fingers with hers and lay
back on the dock. Slowly, she relaxed, his presence a
bone-deep comfort and something else, something
she refused to examine.

Gen gave up and let the blackness take her. But
first she said the words.

“I love you, Wolfe.”

She slid toward sleep. His response drifted in the
sultry air among the chirp of crickets.

“I love you too, babe.”