Genre: Erotic
Release Date: April 16, 2015
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-104-3ISBN 10: 1631121049
Print ISBN-10: 1631121057 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-105-0
Bad
Company
Scottish psychologist Doctor Kelly Ann Darrow loves her career and has
never permitted her feelings to impact her professionalism, but when biker
Cameron Iss arrives in her care, she finds herself inexplicably drawn to the
unconscious man. His tattoos and the mysterious circumstances of his arrival
intrigue her to distraction.
Cameron Iss awakes in a strange country with no memory of how he got
there and no knowledge of who he is. He takes out his frustrations at his
amnesia on the sexy doctor enlisted with helping him unlock his mind.
A mutual chemistry forms between them, and Kelly is plagued with guilt
at her unethical and inappropriate attraction to this, her most perplexing
patient yet.
As his memories begin to return and they discover more about his
violent past and his connection with a motorcycle club in America, the element
of danger both excites and frightens Kelly, and nothing can douse the erotic
fire he has sparked inside her.
Will Kelly risk her career, her reputation, and all she is for the man
who has ignited a dormant passion within her or will his returning memories
steal him away for good?
Bio for Lissa Jay:
Lissa is a tattoo loving, happily married author with a soft spot for rock and
indie music and men with beards.
The alter ego for bestselling
contemporary romance author Lisa J Hobman, she decided to try her hand at a new
genre two years on from publishing her debut. The pen name Lissa Jay was chosen
to keep her genres separate and Bad Company was born. This is her first erotic
novel and is part of a series.
Author
Contact Info:
Excerpt from Bad Company:
Kelly
I watched him
sleeping.
I’d been doing
the same thing for the past week since he was brought in. And with each passing
day, my oh-so-unprofessional want for him grew more familiar. His natural,
musky, masculine scent infiltrated my senses and I inhaled it deeply, closing
my eyes and pulling it. Memorising it. I opened my eyes and trailed my gaze
over his features yet again. Such a handsome face. Dark brown, tousled hair and
more than a week’s worth of beard growth. I wondered if he was usually clean
shaven—although he really did suit the stubble. What would it feel like to run
my tongue along his angular jaw line? Trembling, I shook my head to dislodge
the erotic thought.
Annie, one of his
ICU nurses, had told me that he had the brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen.
She only knew that from the times she’d
checked his pupils.
Sadly, he hadn’t
opened his eyes of his own accord yet.
All I knew about
him on a personal level was that his name was possibly Cameron Iss. And that was only if the note they’d found
with him was actually written by him. My job—when he eventually awoke from his
coma—was to find out why he’d
tried to take his own life. As a woman, I ached to think of the torment he may
have gone through to end up in my care. As a newly qualified psychologist, I
was looking forward, in a macabre way, to getting inside his head. He would be
my first suicide-attempt case. I glanced down to the panic alarm hooked onto my
waistband to ensure it was still there. It was one of the things I’d been
informed I should keep with me at all times
for my own protection—some patients were known to get a little out of hand. Not
that I needed it at that precise moment, but it was always better to be prepared.
The machines
around my patient flashed and bleeped. But he lay still. After observing the
scar on his forehead, I allowed my gaze to journey to where his long lashes
fanned out on his pale, bruised features. Continuing to map his face, I made
myself study the NG feeding tube with its medical tape holding it in place on
his cheek and then settled my attention on his full mouth. He had those
kissable, full lips… well, they would’ve been if they weren’t distorted by the
ventilator tube hanging from them.
Good grief, I was
being so unprofessional. He
deserved better.
But he was
probably the most handsome—no… handsome just didn’t cut it—he was the most stunning, sexy, and sculpted man I could ever recall
encountering in all my adult years. Fine lines caused an indentation between
his strong brows, indicating to me that he was someone who frowned a lot.
Perhaps he was uber serious. Stern. Harsh even. The thought excited me and sent
shivers of electricity down my spine. He was dangerous, that much I could tell.
The epitome of masculinity. Let’s get to the point here, he was the most gorgeous guy I’d ever laid eyes on. I chewed on my
lip. As a jolt of sensation throbbed at my clit, I inhaled sharply. Just
thinking about what he might be like had me pulsating and needy. But it was
wrong and I knew it. Bloody typical—he was in a coma and unattainable thanks to
my professional code of ethics.
I sat there a
little longer, tablet in hand. I hadn’t really focused on the patient record on
the screen, and the tablet had gone into sleep mode—just like Cameron. Despite
my state of heightened sexual awareness, exhaustion—both mental and
physical—was taking its toll on me too. I could’ve just sat in my office, but
the view wasn’t quite as good in there. Don’t get me wrong, the view from my
office in the North Kessock hospital window overlooked the beautiful Kessock
Bridge with Inverness in the distance. And although I couldn’t see it from my
south-facing view, I knew the Black Isle unfolded behind me, and I loved that
place. From my office window I could see the sun glinting on the Beauly Firth
and watch the boats as they tootled by on the calm estuary waters heading out
to sea. But… well, Mr Iss was heart meltingly gorgeous and was rapidly becoming
my favourite thing to look at.
The many tattoos
covering his arms offered enigmatic clues into his life—possibly. I’d examined
them for hours, wondering what they all meant, if anything. Maybe he was just
one of those guys who liked ink. But maybe there was some deeper meaning to the
numbers, words, and pictures beautifully marking the man’s otherwise perfect
olive skin.
One in particular
grabbed my attention. It was the word Cosmic in ornate script on his forearm. Strange choice. The word was
surrounded by stars, and a sultry woman with green eyes and long auburn hair,
not unlike my own, was draped across it as if it were a bed. Some tattoos I’d
seen before depicted women as slutty, half naked and big breasted, mere objects
to be ogled, but this one was very tasteful. Yet it was out of character with
the dark, foreboding images that covered his arms. There were some intricate
tribal tattoos too that were really quite beautiful if you liked that kind of
thing—which I never had… until I started imagining the bold ripple of ink over
his muscles as he pushed himself into my flesh.
Judging by the
numerous markings he carried on these relatively small areas of visible skin, I
was pretty sure he had more ink on the rest of his body. Annie—lucky thing—had
the job of bathing him, but it would be completely unprofessional of me to ask
such questions about a patient, and so I continued to use my vivid imagination.
It’s a good thing that my superiors were only psychiatrists and not mind
readers, or I’d be fired on the spot.
I was clearly sex
starved.
At twenty-six
years old I was beginning to wonder if I would ever meet someone who could make
me really feel. I wanted
someone lucid to affect me in the way the oblivious man before me was affecting
me. Someone intense, fierce, dangerous, carnal. Someone who would take control
of my body as well as my heart. My last so-called relationship had been with my
university boyfriend, Dermott, but he was never going to be the one. The thing between us had
ended on quite good terms, considering they had in fact ended.
We met at med school and no one understood the pressure I was under more than
he did. Ironic that it just didn’t work out between us, really. We’d kept in
touch and occasionally went out for drinks and ended up in bed together at the
end of the night. Call us what you will… friends with benefits… fuck buddies…
stupid; I’ve called myself a lot worse. The point is, whatever we may be isn’t
distracting me from what’s important.
The last few
years had been taken up with studying, placements, exams, and more studying.
All work and no play certainly made Kelly Marie Darrow a dull girl. But I
hadn’t got to where I was by slacking off.
And for once, I
was determined to succeed for me. No longer were my efforts a vain attempt to
impress a father who’d left and a mother who slept around. This was my career.
My life. My independence.
I put down my
tablet and jotted a few professional observations in Mr Iss’s paper file. There
was nothing to report, really. He was still away with the fairies, and my
actual thoughts and observations wouldn’t help his case in any way whatsoever. Deciding I’d
wasted enough time in his room, I walked over to his bedside and glanced down
at the unconscious man. I wondered how he would feel when he awoke to find he
was still alive. Would he be angry? Would he be relieved? What was it about him
that touched me on such a personal level? Sighing heavily, I stroked the soft,
dark strands of hair back from his forehead; his skin was warm and silky to my
tentative fingertips. An overwhelming urge to kiss where I had touched him
tugged at my insides and I bent forward, inhaling that familiar scent again. My
heart skipped at the mere thought of my lips connecting with him, and the
tingle of desire began to tighten my core. I closed my eyes briefly and managed
to rein myself in at the last second. Stupid,
stupid Kelly. What were you thinking?
“Wake up soon…
please, Cameron,” I whispered before turning and leaving the room. As I closed
the door behind me I placed my palm over my thumping heart and wondered what
the hell was wrong with me for me to behave in such a way. But there was no
doubt about it. Even in his unconscious state he had some kind of hold over me.
Knowing that fact both terrified and excited me beyond anything I had ever
experienced.
Later that night
I arrived back home at my little house on the outskirts of Inverness and
wondered how the hell I’d got there. The fact that I didn’t remember walking
home was a little disconcerting. After clicking on the kettle, I shrugged out
of my coat and kicked off my ridiculously uncomfortable shoes.
It had been a
strange day to say the least.
The appointments
I’d had were a mixed bag—nothing too complex, but I was exhausted nonetheless.
Cases of anxiety and OCD were so very interesting, and I relished the thought
of helping the people I worked with. Still, the stress of taking on board
someone else’s troubles was an occupational hazard, and although I was trained
to remain impartial, I couldn’t help but think outside of work about some of
the people I encountered. My mind refused to switch off, and I hoped that this
was only a new-doctor issue.
But I somehow doubted that.
My eyes were
heavy, and every muscle in my body ached as if I’d done a workout with ten-kilo
kettle bells. Once my camomile tea was made, I picked up the steaming mug of
calmness and slumped onto the sofa. Placing my drink on the coffee table, I
rubbed at my tired, sore feet and mentally chastised myself—why I’d chosen
three-inch heels today was beyond me. Many hours after that rash decision, and
my feet were protesting vehemently. No woman in her right mind would wear such
inappropriate footwear when she spent a good deal of time standing and walking
around a sprawling hospital. Thinking back to the morning when I’d dressed, I
realised I must’ve done so in a daze—or more to the point, a kind of
Cameron-fuelled fog of lusty thoughts.
I reached over
and flicked on my iPod. I didn’t bother to look for a track I wanted to hear
and instead settled for random play. There were so many songs on there that I
had no clue what to expect. The intro to “Breathe You In” by Stabbing Westward
floated from the speakers and as I leaned back on the sofa my thoughts
travelled back to Cameron Iss. His case was so very intriguing. He’d been found
near Ben Nevis by a group of walkers and was wearing jeans, black T-shirt, and
a sleeveless black leather biker’s waistcoat that looked like a jacket with the
sleeves removed. He was slumped by a tree on a well-known walker’s trail. But
he certainly wasn’t dressed for walking, considering the October temperature. All
that was found with him was a suicide note and an iPod loaded full of what I
presumed to be his favourite songs, although I was yet to listen to it. It was
all rather peculiar and mysterious to say the least.
The note was
another conundrum. I’d read it so many times, looking for clues as to the guy’s
true identity, that I’d memorised it…
To whoever finds my body.
I’m sorry to do this to you. To cause you this upset. If I’d had any
other way, believe me I would’ve gone down that road.
But it’s all too much. I can’t go on like this anymore. There comes a
point in life where you just have to admit defeat. Admit that you’ve done all
you can. But that there are some things you just can’t make amends for. I’m
done trying now. Done with the pain. Done with the bad memories.
Please tell Rosa I’m sorry but I had no other choice. It’s my time,
that’s all.
Cameron Iss
I was willing him
to wake up. I wanted to find out what had driven him to this. What situation
had occurred that made him feel he had ‘no other choice’?
And who was Rosa?
The phone rang.
Ugh! I just want to be left alone. Grabbing the receiver, I answered without
enthusiasm. “Hello?”
“Kelly? Kelly
it’s me. Look… I was wondering if you’d like to meet up for a drink maybe?”
Dermott Irons—my
dirty little secret.
Handsome. Very
handsome. To describe him in one sentence… Well spoken, English, around six
two, clean shaven, dirty blond hair, and green eyes. He’d become a surgeon and,
at twenty-seven, was already doing very well for himself. The sex between us had
always been good, which is why I stayed in touch with him. I loved the release
that sex gave me and knew that I could trust Dermott with my body and my
safety. Neither of us had the time or inclination to invest in a relationship,
which made us quite compatible in a bizarre sort of way. But we both knew where
the arbitrary line in the sand was and we knew neither of us would choose to
cross it.
Not again.
“Hi, Dermott.
Sorry, I’m a little pushed out schedule-wise right now. Maybe some other time.”
“Come on, Kelly.
Surely you’ve got time for an old friend in between your crazies?”
Anger spiked
within me at his choice of words. No one, but no one insulted my patients.
“Don’t call them
that, Dermott. I mean it. There’s no need to be such a fucking prick.”
“Ah, there she
is. My feisty sex kitten. I was only winding you up, you know. I knew you’d
bite. Come on, it was a bit of fun, that’s all. What do you say about that
drink?”
“Arsehole,” I
mumbled down the line as I examined my shabby fingernails. “Like I said, I’m
busy.”
“You’re not busy
right now. I’m down the street at Johnny Foxes. Come for one drink. Just one?
Please?”
I could tell he
was pouting and my resolve weakened. I couldn’t help but smile. The fact that I
hadn’t been out for such a long time and that deep down I knew it’d probably do
me good niggled at me. But I had to work the following day too.
Sighing heavily,
I rolled my eyes. “One drink. Just one.”
“Great. See you
in ten.”
I hung up and
finished my tea. There was no way I’d be seeing him in ten—I needed to shower and change. Dragging myself from the
comfort of my old couch, I trudged to the bathroom. The shower temperature was
permanently turned up as high as I could stand it, and I switched it to the on
position. Stripping out of my clothes, I caught sight of myself in the bathroom
mirror before the steam distorted the image. I looked tired. The dark circles
under my eyes were becoming a bit of a trademark. Maybe I was overdue a facial
and some pampering. My nails were definitely in need of some TLC.
I decided that a
call to my best friend, Esme, at some point soon was in order. She and I had
talked about trying out the new beauty salon in the town centre, and boy did I
need it.
Once I was
showered and dried, I picked out a pair of dark jeans and a pretty
teal-coloured top with spaghetti straps. I quickly blasted my long auburn
tresses with the hair dryer and decided on a shaggy, can’t-be-arsed look. It
was only Dermott after all. He needed no encouragement where I was concerned.
But crazy as it sounds, he was a decent human being when he wasn’t trying to
get in my knickers.
We sat in the pub
and one drink led to another… and then another. I should’ve known this of old.
My resolve was weak and I always gave in. Eventually, when I was feeling rather
tipsy and giggling like a teenager, we made our way back to my house. As soon
as we got through the front door, he pulled me into his body with one arm and
slipped the other hand inside the front of my jeans.
“I know it’s late
and you have work, but hell, I want to fuck you,” he mumbled as he nuzzled at
my neck.
For a moment I
remembered Cameron Iss and almost backed away. But the code of ethics kicked in
and said Dermott was exactly what I needed in order to drive these
unprofessional thoughts from my mind. So I pulled Dermott closer.
Shivers travelled
down my spine, spiking at the junction of my thighs, and I moaned as he
continued his delicious assault; his fingers alternately circling my clit and
dipping into my entrance, making me wet. I tugged at his long sleeved T-shirt
and he released me long enough to let me remove it and discard it on the floor.
Smoothing my hands down his toned, muscular chest, my fingers found the buttons
on his jeans and I began to release them one by one. All inhibitions had gone
and I was in a desire-fuelled fog.
He slipped his
hands inside my top and freed my breasts from their lace covering, toying with
the sensitive flesh where it peaked, making me moan again at the sensations
taking over my body.
Stepping back, I
released myself from his grip and gazed into his lust-filled green eyes. “Come
with me,” I whispered as I took his hand and led him along the hallway and up
the stairs to my bedroom. Once inside I pulled off the teal top I was wearing
and watched as he slipped his jeans down his thick, strong thighs and stepped
out of them. He licked his lips and watched as I slipped my jeans and panties
from my body and unclasped my bra. He was devouring me with his gaze and I felt
dampness pool between my legs. I kicked my clothing aside and we stood there in
silence observing each other. Only the sound of our ragged breathing could be
heard. Anticipation hung heavily in the air.
Keeping my eyes
on his, I stepped backwards until my thighs hit the softness of my fake fur
throw. I lowered my body to the bed and lay on my back propped up on my elbows
and parted my thighs in a brazen invitation to him. His rigid cock flinched as
he prowled across the room and loomed over me. He dropped his knees to the bed
and his mouth found mine in an aggressive exchange that drew the breath from my
body, and as he entered me in one deep thrust, my head rolled back. He began to
move, and my eyes drifted closed as I relished the sensations he created. It
wasn’t long before the tension inside my pussy was building and I moved my hips
in perfect rhythm with his to find the friction I desperately needed.
Slipping my hands
down his smooth skin, I grasped his tight arse and imagined the tattoos on his
bulky, muscular arms. His deep thrusts driving me toward my delicious release.
I trailed my nails down his back and tried to imagine the tattoos there too. He
sucked on my neck, and my nipples grazed against his chest, making me moan and
dig my nails into his firm flesh. Keeping my eyes closed, I could picture his
blue eyes peering down at me as he drove his cock deeper; his shaggy dark hair
falling forward as he ground his pubic bone into my clit.
I gasped and my
eyes sprang open as I realised what I was doing. I was imagining Cameron Iss.
Oh shit! In my mind, it was Cameron fucking me toward ecstasy, not Dermott.
I fixed my eyes
on Dermott in a bid to push the errant fantasy away, but as the pleasure built,
I could no longer fight the need and my eyelids fluttered closed. His mouth
closed around my nipple and he bit down lightly, causing the vivid images to
catch alight in me again. And as soon as that happened, it was Cameron Iss
above me and inside me once again. In my mind’s eye I watched Cameron’s jaw
tick as he clenched it, apparently fighting his own climax, ensuring my release
happened first.
One final thrust
hit my clit head-on, triggering the most wonderful shock waves throughout my
whole body. I cried out incoherently as I clung on to the shoulders of the man
inside of me, my pussy clenching around him in the most delicious way. He
growled his own orgasm and the thing that brought me back down to earth was the
cry of “Fucking sweetness!”
Dermott’s usual orgasm induced endearment. After a few moments of resting his
weight on top of me and catching his breath, he withdrew and left the room. I
heard water running in the bathroom as I sat, pulled the covers up over me and
drew my knees up to my chest. The inappropriateness of my heady fantasy seeped
into my bones.
Breathing
heavily, Dermott returned and sat beside me. He reached out and stroked my
cheek. “Kelly… is everything okay? Did I hurt you?”
I shook my head.
“No, no, nothing like that. I think… I think I’m just tired,” I lied.
“Are you sure? I
mean, I would never force you—”
I reached out and
placed my fingers over his lips as guilt spiked in my stomach. “No, honestly,
I’m fine. You did nothing wrong. I think I’m just worn out. I’m finding it hard
to… you know… concentrate. I’m so sorry.”
He pulled me into
an embrace. “Hey, don’t apologise, darling. I totally understand. No one
understands the pressures of your job more than me, eh?”
I needed to be
alone with my thoughts. “Sure. Look, I know this is really shitty of me but…
would you mind if we called it a night? I think maybe I just need to sleep.”
He nodded and
stood to retrieve his clothing; his erection had lost its rigidity. Laughing
lightly, he said, “Yeah, I know when I’ve been used for sex and I’m no longer
needed.”
I dropped my
head, covered my face with my hand and groaned. “Oh, Dermott, I’m sorry. I’m
such a fucking mess.”
He stood and
pulled his clothes on as even more guilt began to weigh me down. Once fully
dressed again, he sat on the bed and squeezed my knee through the duvet. I
lifted my head and was greeted by his warm smile. “I’m only messing with you. I
prefer my own bed anyway. And I might just help myself to round two when I’m
there. I’ve got a good imagination.” He raised his eyebrows and I giggled, much
to my chagrin.
I hated giggly women.
He kissed the top
of my head. “Nighty night, sexy. Sleep well and don’t work too hard.”
“Bye, Dermott,” I
replied, feeling relieved. He let himself out and I flopped back on my bed with
my hands covering my face.
What the hell was
wrong with me?
