Page 51 of The Virgin's Dance
Pilot reached out for her and she went into his arms, gingerly, not wanting to hurt him. “From now on,” he said, as his lips found hers again, “from now on, Boh, everything will be good.”
“Promise?”
He smiled at her. “I promise …” and he kissed her again, knowing this was the first moment of the rest of their lives …
The End.
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At work, I’m one man; at home, I’m the complete opposite…
That’s because at home I can wash up after getting filthy.
The dirtier, the better, has always been my motto when it comes to sex.
I’d had a lull in my sex-life since I began working at WOLF. That lull was about to end.
Veronica and I met in the lobby at WOLF. She was interested in becoming an intern, and I was just plain interested in her.
Voluptuous, tantalizing, gorgeous, you name, this chick had it. She had it all, in spades. So I took her in. Got my boss to hire her on to intern under me.
She would be under me, all right. All day and all night too.
If I could get her to get past her fear of intimacy with the man who was her boss.Me …
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The Virgin’s Dance Extended Epilogue
An Older Man/Younger Woman Erotic Suspense
Two years after Boh and Pilot Scamo met and had the most intense six weeks of passion, love, and trauma of both of their lives, they await the trial of the woman who tried to kill them both: Pilot’s first wife, Eugenie.
Although Boh and Pilot have finally found their happy ever after, the trial begins to strain their lives, and then Pilot discovers that Eugenie lied about a pregnancy during their marriage. Instead of the miscarriage she claimed to have, she actually aborted their child late in the pregnancy—just to torment him.
Devastated, Pilot realizes he has yet to come to terms with the horrors of his first marriage. As Boh tries to help him come to terms with the loss, a health scare threatens both her health and the life of their child and she needs Pilot more than ever.
Can Pilot rise to the occasion or will his past still continue to affect the future?
Pilot Scamo wrapped his arms around his wriggling son as they sat in one of the boxes at the Metropolitan Opera House. “Stop moving, child,” he said gently. “Mommy will be dancing soon.”
Thirteen-month-old Tomaso ignored his father. Grace, Boh’s best friend and boss, chuckled at them. “I don’t think he gets ballet yet, Pilot.”
“Maybe not. But wait until Boh is on stage—he’ll stop everything and stare at her.”
Grace looked skeptical. “Really?”
“Really.”
