Happy Friday to all and welcome to my stop on the blog tour for the steamy psychological thriller Just One More Time by K.S. Hunter. I have an extract to share with you today which follows the important book information. Many thanks to Rachel!
Author : K.S. Hunter
Title : Just One Time
Publisher : VAD Publishing
Publication date : December 7, 2017
Desire can have dire consequences
Two years ago, David Madden made a mistake that almost cost him his marriage. His wife, Alison, gave him another chance, but she has not forgotten, nor has she forgiven.
She is irresistible
Then David meets the alluring Nina at a theatre in London. When he loses his phone in the dark, she helps him find it, and by giving her his number he unwittingly invites her into his life.
What David initially views as an innocent flirt turns into a dangerous game of deception. His increasingly suspicious wife thinks something is up, and each lie he tells pushes them further apart.
She is insatiable
Nina pursues David relentlessly, following him to New York where she gives him an ultimatum: sleep with her, just one time, and then she’ll get out of his life forever; or she’ll ruin everything he holds dear.
She is unstoppable
Of course, once won’t be enough for Nina, and what David hoped would be the end is merely the beginning.
A modern-day Fatal Attraction, Just One Time is a steamy psychological thriller that will have you hooked from the first page and holding your breath until its shocking conclusion.
I downed another shot of vodka. One for luck. Or for Dutch courage. Now I knew where I was going, why I was going there.
I quickly rinsed out the shot glass and returned it and the bottle to the cabinet in exactly the same positions they’d been in. Then I slowly climbed the stairs, listening to see whether I could hear any movement in the bedroom. Key would be to catch Alison while she was still awake; wake her up, and not only would that put an end to my idea of seduction, but I’d be on the receiving end of another one-sided slanging match.
I went into the bedroom, slowly pushing the door open. Alison, wearing her nightie, was lying on the bed. She was reading a book. Its cover made it look like a comedy, and again she wasn’t laughing.
I picked up my T-shirt and sleeping shorts and went down the corridor and into the bathroom. Aware that she could fall asleep at any moment, I quickly brushed my teeth and got dressed into my nightwear. I was moving so fast I stumbled into the wall twice. Then I switched off the light and re-entered the bedroom. As soon as I appeared, Alison placed the book on her bedside cabinet and switched off the lamp that sat atop it, pulling the duvet over her body, turning onto her side and facing away from me. She mumbled, ‘Good night.’
Instead of responding verbally, I got into the bed and snuggled my body tightly behind Alison’s. She tensed as our bodies came together, but I clung on, hoping to give the impression that this was the position in which I wanted to sleep. In truth, I hated it, the way her hair felt as its dry strands tickled my nose and went into my mouth when I inhaled. But I knew I needed to do this at the right pace, had to judge this just right, to get anywhere with her. With Alison, there was no jumping into the sack, no grabbing at each other, no tearing each other’s clothes off, no unquenchable desire. I knew I had to try to encourage her towards it.
I counted to three hundred in my head, all the time keeping my arm around Alison’s waist, all the time breathing in the irritating strands of her hair. Occasionally, I squeezed slightly, for affection’s sake, or the impression of it at least. Upon hitting the magical three hundred, I attempted to work some magic. I pressed my groin towards her backside and slid my hands over her stomach. Slowly, I brought them up, cupping her breasts, and at the same time I brought my lips to the back of her neck.
Instead of feeling her hand pull my head closer still, instead of her engaging with my touch, and instead of hearing her breathing intensify, I heard, ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ And she pushed her elbow backwards, connecting with my chest to create space between our bodies. ‘Get off.’
‘But…’ I couldn’t think of what to say, what reason to give for protesting, even though, as a married couple, it should perhaps have been obvious. No, it had been too long – and too much had happened – for that.
Then, amid silence, I settled for, ‘But it’s been months.’ Pitiful.
‘And what do you expect me to say?’ I sat up and switched on the bedside table lamp. ‘But don’t you want to? Don’t you ever feel you want me any more?’
She lay on her back and looked up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t know.’ When she saw I was about to say more, she added, ‘That’s the truth, David. I don’t know what I want, but right now I know what I don’t want. I don’t want to have sex with you. And I don’t know what more you want me to say.’
‘But if you would just try, perhaps you’d feel –’
‘No, David. No, I wouldn’t. I didn’t last time and I doubt I will now.’
‘Oh, so you felt nothing then. You mean you pretended?’
‘I don’t know what I did. All I know is, I’m tired and want to go to sleep. I’m tired of all this and I don’t want your hands on me right now.’
‘Or any time?’ I paused, waiting for her to answer. When she didn’t: ‘You don’t ever want my hands on you, do you? The thought of my touch repulses you, doesn’t it?’
She remained quiet for a time, then in an unusually small voice and without eye contact, keeping her stare fixed on the dressing table, she added, ‘Well, what you do expect?’
‘I expect a wife.’
She turned to me sharply. ‘And I expected a husband.’ She turned away.
After some time of nothing but our breathing filling the heavy atmosphere, I said, ‘I suppose I deserved that. Look, Alison, I’m trying, I really am. I have been for a long time now. I just want things to be normal again, that’s all. Just normal.’
She didn’t answer.
Not knowing what else I could possibly say, but with the alcohol I’d consumed spurring me on, I said, ‘You know, it’s been two years.’
She sprang to life. ‘Oh, is that all, David, two years. Just a measly two years. That makes it okay then. I guess I should just forgive and forget. Well then, fuck you, if that’s what you think. Just two years!’ And she dropped her head against the pillow, again facing away from me, and refused to respond to another word I uttered, so eventually I switched off the light, attempting but failing to fall asleep, our conversation lingering in my mind, my failed attempt to connect with my wife lingering just the same.
And then Nina and her body and her offer came back and lingered, playfully, temptingly. She wouldn’t go away.
I don’t know about you but I’m thinking Nina spells trouble. 😉
Just One Time will be published on December 7th and is available for pre-order!
K.S. Hunter is the pseudonym of an international bestselling author. The identity of the author, who lives in the United Kingdom, will remain a mystery.