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Interviewing Wade
by
K D Grace
Writing
as Grace Marshall
(@kd_grace)
Coming
21st March!
Blurb:
The Executive Decisions Trilogy may be
over, but the story continues. Intrepid reporter, Carla Flannery, wants to
interview Wade Crittenden, the secretive creative genius behind Pneuma Inc. But
when, against all odds, Wade actually agrees to the interview, Carla suspects
ulterior motives.
Carla has made a lot of enemies in her work
and when Wade discovers she’s being stalked, he agrees to the interview to keep
her close and safe. As the situation turns deadly, lives and hearts are on the
line, and the interview reveals far more about both than either ever expected.
Excerpt:
Carla nodded to the
chair opposite her and Wade sat down cautiously. She offered a dry smile and
spoke around a mouthful of toast. ‘Chair’s not booby-trapped, food’s not
poisoned. My security system’s not that good.’
When he made no
reply but savoured a forkful of eggs, she joined him in devouring the feast,
satisfied that after the first bite, he shovelled it in with as much relish and
lack of delicate table manners as she did. With her, eating was always done in
a hurry to get on with what was always way more work than she had time for,
unless she was settling in for a meal with her father. She suspected he cooked
for her especially for that reason. And as she watched Wade stuff half a slice
of toast into his mouth in one go, she figured he was probably the same, with
no one to make sure he got a good meal from time to time. Though possibly Ellis
invited him over occasionally, or maybe Harris Walker and his new wife, Stacie
Emerson. Apparently her culinary skills were spoken about in hush tones.
Strange, but it felt good to be able to offer something to Wade, even if the
idiot did show up at three in the morning
‘Good,’ he said, at
last, covering his full mouth with the paper towel she’d given him in lieu of
the napkins she didn’t have.
‘Thanks. You think
this is good, you should see me make Pop Tarts.
‘I like Pop Tarts,’
he said.
‘The secret is,’ she
leaned across the table, ‘you’ve got to get the toaster set just right. And
then afterwards,’ he leaned closer with wrapped attention, ‘afterwards I put
butter on ‘em and stick ‘em in the microwave until it melts.’
Wade’s eyes were
huge and very green in the kitchen lighting. He looked dead serious, as though
she had just given him her secret for cold fusion. ‘I never thought about
melting the butter on them in the microwave,’ he said, rubbing his chin
thoughtfully. ‘But I find that I do like mine so that the little pastry edges
are just beginning to get almost too brown.’
Christ! Were they
actually talking about Pop Tarts? She laughed. ‘I like ‘em almost burnt, but I
know that’s a matter of personal taste. My Dad likes his just barely warm.’
He lowered his head
and went back to shovelling eggs.
She popped the last
of her bacon into her mouth and spoke around it. ‘So tell me, is Fort Flannery
as unassailable as my father assured me, or are we in need of an upgrade?’
He drained his glass
of orange juice and pushed back from the table. ‘Your father did a good job. I
didn’t have to do hardly anything.’
‘He’ll be glad to
hear that,’ she said. ‘Sorry you had to waste your valuable time in the wee
hours. I know how busy you are.’
‘Yes, well, it was
on my mind. If you’ll let me see your Android, I’ll give it a little upgrade
too.’
‘Will I be able to
watch Russian porn on it?’ she asked.
‘Japanese and
Chinese porn as well, if you like.’ There was that quirk of a smile that she really
would love to eat right off his face.
‘And I’ll assume
you’ve given it a test-drive.’
To her delight, the
smile didn’t disappear, even though the blush was hot on those chiselled cheeks. ‘I’m
my own best guinea pig.’
‘Wade Crittenden,
that borders on too much information, but in the interest of consumer
protection and all, I thank you.’ The blush grew, but the smile stayed put as
she offered him a salute and went into her bedroom to get the device.
She returned to find
that he’d shed his hoodie and was filling the sink with soapy water, his broad
back mantling the counter like a giant bird of prey. For a second her stomach
bottomed at the sight of Wade Crittenden doing dishes at her sink. She stood,
Android crushed to her chest, feeling flushed and slightly off-balance. His
t-shirt was a loose fit, misshapen and short in the back from too many washings
for something that should have migrated to the rag drawer some time ago, and
when he reached across the sink to add still more soap, the shirt rode up to
reveal the slim line of his back and the muscles where his hips joined his
torso just above the swell of his buttocks. The baggy jeans gave enough of an
intimation of that swelling to leave Carla breathless and hot enough to want to
throw off her own hoodie and splash herself with the soapy water in which he
was nearly elbow-deep.
As though he sensed
her watching, he turned, slopped water down the front of his shirt and onto his
jeans and uttered a surprised curse.
Without thinking she
rushed to his side, dropping the device on the table. ‘You don’t have to do
that,’ she managed, in a breathless gasp. ‘Sometimes I go for weeks without
ever washing so much as a coffee cup.’ She stretched around him, grabbed for a
dish towel and offered it to him instead of patting him dry herself, which was
what she really wanted to do.
He reached for the
towel, holding her gaze. ‘You cook for me, I do the clean-up for you. Fair’s
fair.’ His hand slid into the cloth and around her fingers as he drew it to his
chest. His breath caught, his lips parted as though to speak, and God help her,
she couldn’t resist, she leaned into him on tippy-toe and planted a kiss firmly
on his mouth. She only meant for it to be a friendly peck, a way of saying
thanks for checking up on her and for doing the dishes, but his other hand,
covered with soapy water, swooped in and grabbed the front of her hoodie
reeling her to him. Then he curled his fingers in the tangle of her wild hair
and cradled the back of her head, pulling her still further up on her toes. ‘Oh
God,’ he whispered, his tongue darting deep, his lips, soft and hard and
bruising all at the same time, meeting hers in a clash of wills and a heroic
effort to get closer and deeper. ‘Oh God, Carla, why did you do that,’ he
gasped against her mouth.
‘Just being
friendly,’ she managed, before the tongue sparring got serious. He gave the
towel a toss and yanked down the zipper of her hoodie, shoving it off onto the
floor, his hands skimming her breasts in his efforts, thumbs lingering to rake
her nipples that were already painful in their peaking. His jeans might have
been loose, but they were not loose enough to disguise his erection, and he
didn’t seem to care. Both hands slid to cup her bottom and he lifted her,
settling her onto the kitchen table, pushing her legs apart with his knees and
moving in between her thighs as she went to work on his fly.
‘I have lots of
friends,’ he breathed. ‘None of them do that to me.’
‘How about this,’
she said biting his lower lip and sliding her hand down inside his boxers. ‘Do
they do this?’
‘No,’ he returned
the nip. ‘Never, none of them.’ For a second he faltered. ‘Carla, I –’
‘Shut up, Wade. I
don’t wanna hear it.’ This time she bit his tongue before she took his hand and
guided it down into her baggy sweat bottoms and into her own boxers.
Pre-Order
Links:
Author
Bio:
Voted ETO Best Erotic
Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud
was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And
nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?
When she’s not
writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She
walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked
Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes.
For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a
pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the
birds and anything that gets her outdoors.
KD has erotica
published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books,
Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats
Press and others.
Find K D Here:
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