This book is full of intense fun, from the way the hero and heroine meet to those smokin’ love scenes. And then there’s just the plain intensity of Olivia’s indecision over which twin brother is best for her and the story she learns about their past, as well as the lasting effects of that past.
So you get a little bit of everything in Down to You. And the best part? There’s more of Cash/Nash and Olivia to come later in Book 2. My curiosity is killing me to see what Ms. Leighton comes up with in that story, if she’s able to top what she’s done in this book. Only time will tell.
Summary:
The scorching tale of one girl and two brothers in a love triangle…that’s not.
Olivia Townsend is nothing special. She’s just a girl working her way through college so she can return home to help her father run his business. She’s determined not to be the second woman in his life to abandon him, even if it means putting her own life on hold. To Olivia, it’s clear what she must do. Plain and simple. Black and white.
But clear becomes complicated when she meets Cash and Nash Davenport. They’re brothers. Twins.
Cash is everything she’s always wanted in a guy. He’s a dangerous, sexy bad boy who wants her in his bed at any cost. He turns her insides to mush and, with just one kiss, makes her forget why he’s no good for her.
Nash is everything she’s ever needed in a guy. He’s successful, responsible and intensely passionate. But he’s taken. Very taken, by none other than Marissa, Liv’s rich, beautiful cousin. That doesn’t stop Olivia from melting every time he looks at her, though. With just one touch, he makes her forget why they can never be together.
Black and white turns to shades of gray when Olivia discovers the boys are hiding something, something that should make her run as far and as fast as she can. But it’s too late to run. Olivia’s already involved. And in love. With both of them.
Both brothers make her heart tremble. Both brothers set her body on fire.
She wants them both.
And they want her.
How will she ever choose between them?
Enjoy these short excerpts as you get to know the twins and their lady…
Taking a deep breath, I stand and turn toward the Hot Stripper Guy, purposely jacking my chin up another notch. He’s still watching me with those smoky coal eyes.
When I take a step toward him, he very slowly raises one eyebrow.
Heat washes through me.
Must be those dangerous drinks, I think. It has to be.
I feel flushed and a little breathless, but I take another step anyway.
Hot Stripper Guy takes a step away from Ginger and turns to face me fully. He crosses his arms over his chest and waits, that one brow still raised in curiosity. He’s not going to make it easy. He’s leaving it all up to me, just like Ginger asked them to do.
As if on cue, the music that’s been pumping into the room all night gets louder. It’s a sexy song, heavy on the bass. It’s mood music for sure. It seems to punctuate every intense beat of my heart as I get closer and closer to those velvety eyes.
When I stop in front of him, I have to look up. My five and a half feet of height is nearly a foot shorter than his towering frame.
Up close, I see that his eyes are brown. Dark, dark brown. Nearly black.
Sinful.
I’m lost in wondering why that particular word would come to mind when the girls start chanting for me to take his shirt off. Uncertainly, I glance at their excited faces then back to him. Slowly, he spreads his arms, holding them out to his sides, away from his body.
One corner of his mouth twitches. His expression, his body language is rife with challenge.
I realize he doesn’t think I’ll do it. No one probably does.
And that’s exactly why I will.
Letting the beat of the music relax my tense muscles, I plaster on a smile as I reach forward to tug Hot Stripper Guy’s shirt from the waistband of his pants.
****
Damn, she’s beautiful!
Between this girl’s black hair, her bright probably-green eyes, her banging little body and the way she seems a tiny bit shy, I’m wishing we were alone in this room together.
Her smile doesn’t leave her lips as she runs her hands around my waist, untucking my shirt. When it’s free, she starts to pull it up.
But then she pauses. For a split second, I see her hesitate. She’s trying not to show that she’s unsure of herself, of what she’s doing.
I stare down into those liquid eyes. I don’t want her to stop. I want to feel her hands on my skin. So I taunt her, hoping to feed the feline that I’d be willing to bet is buried somewhere down deep.
“Oh, come on. Is that all you got?” I whisper.
Her eyes bore into mine and I hold my breath, waiting to see which side will win. In fascination, I watch as the balance of power shifts and the change is reflected in her eyes. They get a little brighter, a little feistier. I’ve never actually seen someone muster courage. Determination. Something in this girl refuses to give in, to back down. She’s rising to the challenge. And it’s hot as hell.
She keeps her eyes on mine as she starts to pull up my shirt. She leans in closer and I get a whiff of her perfume. It’s sweet and a little musky. Sexy. Just like her.
She has to plaster her body to mine and stretch up on her tiptoes to get my shirt over my head. I can feel her breasts pushing against my chest. I could make the task easier for her. But I don’t. I like the feel of her rubbing against me. There’s no way I’m ruining that.
Once she has my shirt off, she backs up and looks me over. She’s shy about it. That much is obvious. It’s like she wants to look, but she’s a little embarrassed to, which actually makes it more of a turn on for some reason. I’m sure every other eye in the room is watching me, watching us, but hers are the only ones I can feel. They’re like tongues of fire, licking my skin. They’re searing and tangible. Or at least they feel that way to me.
I take a deep breath and her eyes drop to my stomach. Then they flicker down a little further. She stares longer than she should, but not nearly as long as I want her to. I start to get hard.
Her eyes widen and her lips fall open just enough for her tongue to sneak out and wet them. I have to grit my teeth to keep from pulling her to me and kissing that lush little mouth of hers.
Then light pours into the room. It’s just enough to break the spell.
****
The material is some kind of thin, almost sheer stuff in dark red. It flutters in the air that stirs as the door comes to a rest against the stopper with a muffled thump. Olivia stands still and lets me appraise her before she starts toward me. I clench my jaw to keep my mouth from dropping open as I watch her. The wispy cloth clings to her body as she walks, outlining her form perfectly. She might as well be nude.
Holy mother, I wish she was.
I shake off the thought, knowing I can’t go forward tonight thinking things like that.
Think with the big head, man! Think with the big head!
She glides to a stop in front of me, all grace and luscious skin. Her bare chest and shoulders glow in the low light. I want to touch her, caress her, so much so that I ball my fingers into tight fists to keep them to myself.
“You look beautiful.” My voice sounds strained, even to my own ears.
Her face falls. “It’s too tight, isn’t it? I’m wearing taller heels to make the length right, but there’s nothing I can do about the rest.” I can see that she’s genuinely distressed, which makes me want to smile, although I don’t. That would be the wrong thing to do in front of an upset woman. “Marissa is so much thinner than me,” she says, one of her hands fluttering as she talks. “And I just don’t have anything that—”
I reach out and take her spastic hand, pressing the forefinger of my free hand to her lips. “Shhh.” She stops talking immediately. Yes, I could’ve shut her up a hundred different ways without touching her, but I figure this is better than kissing her, which is what I really want to do.
Good God, how I want to kiss her!
It takes me a few seconds to focus on something other than the way her lush lips parted just a little. It would be so easy to slide my fingertip between them, to feel the heat of her mouth, the wetness of her tongue.
I’m both surprised and irritated that I feel my tuxedo pants shrink a size in the crotch. I’ll have to be extra careful with this girl. I can’t remember the last time someone so thoroughly tested my restraint.
