Lioness
in Blue by Shaira Glassman
Published
16th of March 2016 by Torquere Press
9500
words ǀ heat: 5
Heterosexual
Erotic Romance
First
Oboe Dan Cohen may be twice her age, but Second Oboe Lauren Stern isn't about
to let that stand in her way. She's been fantasizing about the man beside her
in the symphony, and this might just be the concert where she finally find out
what it's like to feel the scruff of his salt-and-pepper goatee against her
skin.
If
people are going to make intrusive comments about how much older he is, they
can get over themselves. Not only is Dan an expert lover who knows how to take
care of a woman, but he doesn't want her to be gentle--quite the opposite!
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Excerpt
Lauren
took a deep breath. English horn solo, take two. "You're a really cool
guy."
Dan
studied her with careful brown eyes. "Is this ‘you're a really cool guy',
or 'you're a really cool guy, but’?"
Lauren's
mouth exploded into a firework of a smile. "It's 'you're a really cool
guy.'" A giggle escaped, at the cleverness and elegance of his question.
Dan
grinned. "Good! You're not so bad yourself." He seemed to be
absorbing the sight of her, and Lauren basked in the sunlight of his
admiration. "I take it this means you'll have dinner with me between
tomorrow's rehearsals? Lunch--dinner--linner?"
"Yeah,
that'd be great!" The world around Lauren seemed to be humming in
concordance, the air in tune with the ground. Her body felt fluid and graceful
as if she were suspended in water.
"So,
what brought this up? Why now?"
Lauren
rolled her eyes at herself and snorted a little. "Someone misread my face
earlier and got the wrong idea, so I wanted to make sure you got the right idea
in case she talked to you later."
Dan
nodded. "Oh, okay, that makes a little more sense. I thought -- well, you
caught me off guard. For a moment there I thought you’d pulled me off somewhere
quiet because you couldn't make it through rehearsal without kissing me."
Lauren’s
face burned with sweet, ridiculous heat. "Not gonna lie, I’d love
to!"
He
drew her near with a guiding hand on her upper arm, and her pounding heart
poured fire between her legs. “Hell, if we can’t eat, we might as well, right?”
She’d
never been this close to his face before, close enough to smell cedar on his
skin. “You don’t want to know how many times I’ve thought about this.”
“Oh,
yes, I do.” With his arms encircling her so that she rested safe within a
cocoon of sturdy masculinity, he kissed her.
The
world ground to a halt as she greedily took his kisses like dry summer earth
drinks rain. His beard and mustache brushed her face in comforting
accompaniment, which was novel—her last two partners had been a man who shaved,
and a woman. It enhanced the Dan-ness of the act, somehow, like his facial hair
created a whole new way to be kissed.
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Author
Shira
Glassman is a bisexual Jew (or possibly twelve tiny bisexual Jews in a trench
coat) living in Florida with an activist and a Very Bad Cat. She has played
violin, both classically and Appalachian/Irish folk, for thirty years as of the
publication of this book. The oboe players in her life are still speaking to
her—for now.
****
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