Got your umbrella ready? ‘Cause we’re about to rain on you with ANOTHER EXCERPT! Yes! Another one! After all, we’re RAINING EXCERPTS this month!

Here’s a contemporary by the inimitable Bonnie Edwards and her single author anthology, Thigh High (Aphrodisia, 1 Feb 08), reviewed by LauraJ here. Read on for some steamy fun. We’ll put up excerpts from the other two stories in the antho over the next couple of days. Bring your galoshes. Oh, and a fan – it’s getting a little warm in here after reading these…

Thigh High: Parlor Games by Bonnie Edwards

The line of cabs ahead of his moved slowly toward the mansion’s wrought iron gates. Matt Crewe tapped his knee in impatience as each car ahead of his inched along in turn as, one by one, they disappeared up a driveway covered over by pine boughs. Without warning the cab ahead of his stopped three cars back from the gates and the rear passenger door opened to allow a woman to exit.

She paid her fare at her driver’s open window. Highlighted in the headlights, she was fine featured and dressed for comfort. Her movements were briskly efficient as she handed over some bills and waved away the change. Walking shoes and blue jeans topped by a bright red fleece surprised him. He’d expected to see women dressed in silk and satin designed to tease and entice.

But then it wasn’t the women who would be on the auction block, now was it, he noted with a bitter smile. It would be men. And Matt was one of them.

He tapped his driver on the shoulder. “She’s got the right idea. It’ll be faster if I walk,” he said. The woman picked up a laptop case and an overnight bag and made for the gates on foot. If he was lucky he’d catch up to her before she reached the mansion. Whoever she was, he wanted to talk to her.

As he cleared the gates and took his first step onto the grounds of Perdition House the enormity of what he planned grabbed him by the cock.

Selling himself. A sex-filled weekend with a woman he’d never met. Would never see again. Desire rose at the thought, hot and insistent. A slight breeze kicked up, snatching at his hair, pressing his jeans against his legs.

The woman he trailed stopped about twenty feet ahead, then dropped her overnight bag to the ground at her feet. The laptop case went next, but she was more careful of it. Then she stretched her arms out in front of her and shook her hands as if to get the blood flowing again. She rubbed her arms from shoulders to wrists, even stamped her feet into the soft pine needles that cushioned the driveway.

She was foot stomping cold while he was fine. More than fine if his hardening cock was any indication. He hurried to catch up to her.

More cabs arrived, inching along beside him toward the house. If not for the headlights the driveway would be pitch black.

Ten feet to go and the breeze turned cold; drove hard right through his leather jacket and jeans, leaving him numb but strangely alive. As if every sense he had was on high alert. The woman suddenly wrapped her arms around her waist in the age-old gesture that signaled a need for warmth. God he wanted to wrap her up and hold her. The thought came from nowhere, and everywhere.

His own arms tingled from shoulders to fingertips and all he wanted was to reach her, enfold her in his arms and share whatever body heat she needed. Then he wanted to lay her out and take her. Heat her up to boiling.

The impulse to drag her into the bushes and get her jeans off came sudden and hard. Hot damn he was horny. Randy as a teenager. Must be the woman. Either that or the purpose of the weekend was getting to him.

He tugged at his collar to release some of his pent up heat, but it didn’t help. He hurried the last few steps, happy to get the weekend off to a good start.

“Hello,” he said as he reached her side.

She startled but smiled back at him. “Hello. Are you the talent?” Her tone was bold as a sailor’s on shore leave. She assessed him, while she flapped her arms around her middle.

“Apparently. One of them anyway. You’re here to bid?”

“Yes.” Her glance heated as she let her gaze travel from his face down to his hikers.

What he saw when she looked back into his eyes was approval.

A small worry drifted away. He’d done everything in his power to be included on the auction block this weekend and it looked like he passed muster.

“Matt Crewe,” he said, “very pleased to meet you.”

“Carrie MacLean,” she said with a nod and smile. “Sorry about the talent comment, it was rude. I’m not sure what came over me, but as soon as I walked through the gates. . .”