Blog Tour: HEAT by Penny Reid (An Elements of Chemistry novella): Exclusive Excerpt
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Elements of Chemistry: HEAT is part 2 of a 3 part series (65k word novel) and ends in a cliffhanger.
**Blurb contains spoilers if you haven’t read Elements of Chemistry: ATTRACTION**
Four days left.
Private beach (…and boat).
Not so invisible girl.
And maybe less of a jerk-faced bully than originally thought.
What’s the worst (or the best) that could happen?
Kaitlyn is finding life outside of the science cabinet of obscurity to be quite illuminating …and so are her pants.
When things heat up between Kaitlyn Parker and Martin—previously known as the jerk-faced bully—Sandeke, she places her trust in the one person she never thought capable of earning it, let alone keeping it safe. Fortunately or unfortunately for Kaitlyn, where she gives her trust she can’t help but also give her heart.
But how will the world beyond the sanctuary of their newfound connection react to their relationship? Soon senators, chinless billionaires, and elements beyond Martin and Kaitlyn’s control want to weigh in on the young couple’s future.
Navigating the chaotic inferno of new love might be more than Kaitlyn bargained for, and much, much more than her trust—or her heart—can handle.
“We’re calling your pussy, ‘pants’? That’s what we’re calling it?”
“No. I mean, we can…I guess. But ‘pants’ doesn’t necessarily conjure the most alluring images. I’m open to other names if we have to name it. Why do we have to name it?”
His hand in my much-discussed pants slipped around to my bare bottom, caressing and squeezing. “We don’t have to name it. I just thought you were naming it.”
“No. I’m not naming it.” I shook my head. “I was just saying, or trying to say, that the area in my pants that is required for sexual intercourse is—”
“You mean your pussy.”
“Yes.”
“Then say it. Say, my pussy.”
I scrunched my face at him even as his hands continued to glide over my body and his hips rocked into me, making me feel muddled all over again.
“What? Why?”
“I just want to hear you say the word.” Martin unclasped my bra.
“Why can’t I say vagina?”
“No.”
“Vag?” I tried, half serious.
He made a face then shook his head, pulling my shirt and bra from my body.
“How about my nether region?”
The side of his mouth quirked just before he took a step away to discard his own shirt, his fingers then moving to unbutton his jeans. “No.”
“Dewy petals?” I batted my eyelashes at him.
“Ugh, what the fuck does that even mean?” He stepped out of his jeans, leaving his long, lithe, fine form in nothing but black boxers. He reached for me, and I let him.
“I have a ton of these.” I grinned at his reaction. “I play this game, really it’s a strange coping strategy, where I repeat synonyms for words—”
“I know. I told you, I heard you do it all the time during lab.”
“Oh, that’s right. Well, I know lots of euphemisms for the female anatomy.”
“Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.” Martin turned us, marched me backward until my legs connected with the mattress, then eased us down using one arm wrapped around my middle and a single knee on the bed.
It was an impressive display of upper body strength and core muscles. In other words, it was hot.
“Just one more?”
His hand slid from my collarbone, between my breasts, and down my abdomen; he hitched two fingers into my shorts at my hip and paused.
“Okay, just one more.”
“Meat curtains.”
About Penny Reid
SEX! It all started with sex, between my parents. Personally I don’t like thinking about it, but whatever works for you is a-ok with me. No judgment. The sex happened in California and much of my life also occurred in that state until I moved from the land of nuts (almonds), wine, silicon… boobs, and heavy traffic to the southeast US. Like most writers I like to write, but let’s get back to sex. Eventually I married and gave birth to 2 small people-children (boy-6, girl-4 as of this writing).
By day I’m a biomedical researcher with focus on rare diseases. By night I’m a knitter, sewer, lino block carver, fabric printer, soap maker, and general crafter. By the wee hours of the morning or when I’m intoxicated I love to listen to the voices in my head and let them tell me stories. I hope you enjoy their stories.
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